Tempestuous Pacific
by MrsRJLupin
Summary: Having saved the life of Admiral Nelson, Cicely Maturin is on her way to her new life to be with her Uncle. She will leave her beloved Stephen and beloved ship Surprise. However there is a long jouney from Cape Trafalgar to the middle of the Pacific. March 2018 Next chapter UP! Feel free to download the audio: Youtube "MrsRJ Lupin" (space between the MrsRJ and Lupin)
1. Prologue

Rain lashed the now almost-vertical deck of HMS Suprise. The midshipman whose watch it was called loud into the howling gale. Rope reeled ovver the tafrail the end catching on the forecastle deck sheet-rope cleeting. Joseph Nagel wound the rope around his wrist save the loose rope coiled overboard.

"Tie-it-to-the-fo'c'sle-joist!" Midshipman Thompson fought for supremacy over the storm breaking in the Mid-Atlantic. A wave tossed the frigate high aloft, crashing down, its deck swilling with floodwater.

Below decks Cicely Maturin shivered, pulling her shawl closer around her shoulders. Then she jumped back in alarm as the lantern that had hung above her work, that of her husband's naturalism, sprang from its position and smashed onto his desk.

The storm was worse than ever she had remembered; worse than the last couple of days as "HMS Surprise"chased a course north-north east. A storm worse even than she had endured as a member of the "Surprise's" crew, nearly three years before in her guise as Robert Young in the Southern Ocean.

In the dark Cicely collected together the broken glass fragments as she tried not to fall against the oak beams as another rolling wave impacted the ship, its energy forcing it over to nearly ninety degrees. Just as she got most of it together the cabin door opened.

"I heard a noise? Are you alright, my darling?" Cicely looked up from the floor. Stephen Maturin, her husband, naturalist, ship's surgeon and spy stood in the doorway, the lamplight from behind him reflecting his shapely features as another wave smashed at the ship.

"Just the storm. It broke the lamp." She proffered the glass as way of explanation. "I'd got as far as the bivalve molluscs and their distibution in the limestone of Leicestershire. If you can provide another I'll continue."

Stephen Maturin, who had been dining with Captain Jack Aubrey, shone the light he was holding himself above the desk.

"You've done a lot – why don't you rest, sweetheart?"

"Because I haven't finished yet." In the sem-darkness she smiled and Stephen stepped towards her, relieving her of the broken glass.

"Rest, Cicely. I fear the ship is approaching her quarry and when we do, it will be hell or high water if the tubs get the better of us."

"There's little chance of that, is there? We outmatch all of them, don't we?"

"We're pursuing them. There's shipping north, Naval ships. We have a good chance of catching them, as Jack explains it."

Two weeks after the Battle of Trafalgar, where Cicely had through willpower, skill, cunning and, she would probably admit, sheer stupidity, had saved the life of Admiral Lord Nelson. Her former pair whom she had had in her time as Robert Young before her discovery by the now-Lieutenant Blakeney as a woman, James Fillings had been the assassin; his inability to carry out the deed in the name of his father John Fotherington had resulted in spymaster William Wickham attempting it himself.

Cicely had knocked aside Nelson and taken the bullet herself and she was treated by Stephen, in his guise as a Spanish prostitute, having travelled across France and Spain in pursuit of Wickham.

For his part, William Wickham, in collusion with Joseph Fouche of the French intelligence sevice, had escaped and was on the run, with a good deal of sensitive information. Nelson was aware of this, and too, of a potential invasion of Britain by Napoleon.

Now, "Surprise" was in pursuit with two other British warships in pursuit of the French Comte-Admiral Pelley who had mounted a break of the Cadiz peninsula with four ships, ready to wear them down, engage them and take them as prizes.

The now-accidental veteran of the Battle of Trafalgar sank down into her husband's study chair – Stephen was right, of course, she did need rest. Cicely had been working hard in her husband's stead, transcribing note after note from the seemingly-disorganised collection he had procured from every compass point on what seemed to be nearly every living species contained in the world.

"I am pleased you are taking such an interest in my work," Stephen replied, dropping the glass as he steadied himself against the door frame before stepping towards her. "Rest. And you're right. A half-dozen frigates chasing four rag-tags – Jack says we are well-numbered."

"He is pleased with his opportunity? Should he make a good show of things now he may well be promoted. The pride of the Service is at stake."

"Indeed. He was lucky to have been found innocent of dereliction of disobeying orders at the court-martial; luckier still to have had it proved that his action had been decisive in victory. There is a good chance he may, although the business was only concluded last week"

"In the victory of the Victory," laughed Cicely lightly, as she sat back down on Stephen's work-chair. "I had nearly finished anyway. It's the last Erasmus Darwin has to say on geology and living species."

Cicely was pleased herself that Jack Aubrey had put himself out so much on her behalf. Indeed, he had done so with painstaking propiety and deliberation, ensuring his duty within the service of the Royal Navy was never called into question.

She could not have wished for greater for her former (unwitting) Captain, and yet he now had the chance of further fortune – he had been sent with honours on a gallant pursuit of the French ships. Should he dazzle at the action here, prize money and a possibility of post-captaincy.

Such a professional breakthrough guaranteed a pension on retirement at whatever age; guaranteed Sophie Aubrey income to her death and immediate status within society and the Navy itself. It was the breakthrough Aubrey clearly desired, as much as Stephen desired in his naturalism.

Another wave, throwing Stephen forward and Cicely to one side. Above them the middie shouting futher orders and the tramping of the deckhands indicated that – yes, as expected – the sheets were to be taken in so as to minimise the chance of the storm winds toppling them past the horizontal or a wave doing the same. If, as Jack suspected, Cicely knew, the ships they pursued were not far off, they would have to do the same, save the chance of wreckage and so there would be little to gain other than blind foolishness in trying to gain on them in this weather.

"Are you staying, my love? Or returning to your other love?" He raised an eyebrow. "The violoncello?" She smiled as Stephen sat next to her, holding her close.

"Here. I don't trust that you'll not try to work more on my behalf. Anyway, I am sure that Jack would have been welcoming of your company tonight. He was enjoying discussing naval strategy, inference and projected outcomes of the next few days. I am afraid he found me lacking in discourse."

Stephen leaned past her and looked across at his work. Cicely had indeed been busy. And true to her word. His wife had not attempted to interfere with the ship's order in any way; nor had she attempted to dress as a boy and masquerade as a mizzenlad.

Indeed, Cicely had spent a copious amount of time assembling his ragged notes into a semblance of order that to him was remarkable since she knew little of naturalism. But she was bright and learned. She was also recovering from an abdomen wound gained from the aforementioned incident where she had saved the life of Admiral Nelson at the Battle of Trafalgar. She was about to speak when another wave hammered the glass again, its reverberation paining Cicely's ears again.

"I would be honoured to hear you both play," Cicely concluded, getting up carefully. "I would hardly be able to sleep this night in this gale, and I will be confined enough when we come to close-engagement. I need some work to do when I'm here alone. I certainly haven't finished it all. It;s All Souls day. A toast to those who have passed is in order."

"Edward." Stephen squeezed her hand, smiling comfortingly in the gloom.

Both Edwards, Cicely thought. And besides, once they had got to Sarawak and she had been left in the household of her mother's brother as "Surprise" sailed away, she would resent any minute she had chosen to be away from her beloved.

Stephen , whose motivation in exchange for remaining surgeon aboard "Surprise" was his naturalism work, had been fortunate thus far in his research. Orders from the Navy had co-incided with alightments to rarely-visited, isolated parts of the world where his observations had been drawn on from plants, animals and rocks which were, in some cases, entirely new. His dearest wish was for his work into naturalism to gain that all-so-precious recognition that he coveted from the Royal Society.

Cicely had helped him a good deal by forging (again, accidentally) a connection with Robert Darwin, son of the author of the work, "Zoonomia", a vastly comprehensive discussion about life on earth and natural history and had gained him insights into unpublished exerpts, something which had allowed Stephen to make some great leaps forward.

They made their way out onto the lower deck and up one deck to where the Captain's cabin was, stretched as it were port to starboard aft the ship, the storm howling like a shroud overhead, before being welcomed warmly.

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	2. Finish the Job

It was dusk. All day the ship had sailed hard east. Aubrey had busied himself with the Lieutenants, whom he had summoned shortly after midnight, a few hours after Cicely and Stephen had partaken in Jack's hospitality. Sails had been seen on the horizon and the torch-signal unique to the Royal Navy which visually questioned in the dark whether the ship was one of their own.

It had taken all night for the ship to tighten the sheets, to have them as drawn in as possible as they tacked into the headwind. Was it the "Formidable"? Cicely couldn't help wondering as she left Stephen with Jack again and taken her leave to bed.

Now, as the men assembled on the maindeck, flanked by their middies, Lieutenants Blakeney and Mowett next to Jack, the day's efforts had not gone to waste. Indeed there was sail and indeed it was British. "Surprise" would be on its shoulder in less than six hours to ascertain what action they would take together because, Jack had determined, beyond the British frigate were other ships, bearing the tricolore.

Cicely sat at the bottom of the steps on the middle deck as she listened to Jack speaking. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she would have been one of the men herself. Equally, she thought as she wriggled a little to ease the discomfort around her left hip, she could hardly ignore the ship's workings by its crew, so intimately did she know it.

"Men of the Surprise. We have worked hard here today, the Sabbath, and for what, you may ask." A few expected, "aye's" went up; it was expected of an open question made by a commander; it added texture to the speech. "Less than a fortnight ago our Admiral Lord Nelson began an attack of the Spanish and French fleets at Cadiz. We fought them just off Cape Trafalgar. Lord Nelson took all of the ships as prizes - "

" - hurrah!""

" - all except four. A rear group, so cowardly as to face us they would not, once the heat was on and the guns were blazing, made a run for the North!" Cries of "shame" rebounded beneath Jack Aubrey, and despite not being able to see his face Cicely was confident that Jack would be nodding with his men. "The Lord Admiral confided on us and two other, undamaged as we were by the Trafalgar battle that we should pursue, capture and claim as prizes these ships!"

Cicely peered up though the hatch now and could see Jack's face. Next to him Stephen, who had remained with him the night as she slept, or attempted to at least. Was there another orator as skilled as Jack? Lod Nelson, perhaps. When Jack Aubrey spoke it was hypnotic. Cicely swore that even if the most opposed man to one of his plans had listened to the Captain then Aubrey would have a proselyte under his hand within a minute. She turned her head to one side, as the rain drenching the deck now was beginning to drown out the captain.

"We are to drive them together, herd them into a group. More ships are in the area, so we will be acting togther. By this time tomorrow, the battle will be over. Our Lord Nelson began the task of defeating the Navy. We will finish the job!"

To the sound of cheers Cicely got to her feet, making her way back to the cabin. Maybe she would read, she thought as the boards squeaked under foot, the rain seeping down and making the lower planks damp.

There were some out of date "London Times" newspapers that she had found in the hold, future use unknown. She needed to do something, Cicely knew, to ensure that Jack knew that she was complying with her word of being involved with the ship in its engagement, but she knew her mind would not settle to Stephen's work, and she would not do it justice. "London Times" it would be.

Closing the cabin door behind her, Cicely wondered why she was so nervous. Probably because a small part of her, the part which had successfully borne her from her father and ultimately to Stephen was the same part which took satisfaction in seamanship: the preparations above were tempting. But she knew she must – and would – keep her promise to never masquerade as a boy and work on a Royal Navy ship. It was a kind of dowry she had paid to the Lord Nelson when he bent the law to the limit by allowing her to be married under his very own chaplain.

The other reason she felt nervous was because of Stephen. His work kept him aboard the "Surprise", and her with it, until they reached Sarawak and she would depart the ship to live with her mother's brother. Her Uncle had, by all accounts, made good money in the natural wood-growing there, and he had been given status, of a sort. It would take nearly five months to reach Borneo, even if there were no more diversions – too little a time, Cicely knew, for her and Stephen to be together before they parted again.

Cicely knew that her time with Stephen therein HMS Surprise was limited and precious. Until he gained his commission and they could choose their own lives together they would be apart again. She looked over at the desk as the gun carriages were drawn into place on the deck above– she had not spent nearly six months of her life doing hard, cruel work whre the future was unknown to her, for nothing – Cicely had always chosen the path that honoured her love for Stephen, even when she had been told he was dead.

She wanted more than anything just to be by his side without the worry that he would have got a lead which told him where the now-missing spy-traitor William Wickham was, which was something Cicely knew was very likely to happen.

Just to be by his side was all that she wanted.

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Six bells on the middle watch. Early hours of the morning. Cicely opened her eyes. There was to be a battle this day; the enemy, like a wounded cat, would not surrender without giving them its all. Four ships had escaped, she knew. It would be dangerous and the outcomes unknown. Fighing undirected and without plan.

But with an objective. To avail victory over these enemy ships by whatever intellectual scheme and skill, using wit and fast-thinking. Exactly the conditions in which the captain of the "Surprise" thrived.

The urge to get up and engage with the men, to slip into her role was strong, but dull. Outside the window was not being lashed as it had been – the rain had stopped and the waves less angry.

She tried to move, wondering why it was so difficult and her answer came from the regular breathing close to her ear. Stephen was holding her, sleeping as they had been, his arm loosely coiled around her. Cicely relaxed as the hammering of feet above signalled the readying of the ship – despite the edge she was feeling because of the day that was to come, the honey-smooth contentment in her stomach meant that she could have lain back into his arms again.

"Something worries you." Stephen's voice was soft next to her ear, his breath warm as he spoke.

"Just the battle," she replied. "So much could happen. The men..." Cicely turned sharply to Stephen. "Will you be beside them."

"Indeed. They will need me. The cockpit is prepared."

The waves lapped the wood beside them. Cicely closed her eyes. The men...some of them lining up on the quayside waiting for their chance as crew of the "Surprise" - or any ship that would have them wearing the British flag following Trafalgar – eager, or desperate, for work, as she had done almost three years before in Sao Paulo. She would begin her job as nurse as soon as the battle ended – or before - her scholars of the last week working in their primary role, the cockpit in many men-o'war being used for the purpose. They do need you, she agreed silently, as does Jack. But I need you more...

A door, which she had banged shut and closed with a million nails and wooden bars was, in her mind, straining to release the thought which she dare not think now that her husband was alive and they were back together. She closed her mental eye to it and focused on the day.

"You could be killed," Cicely whispered to his chest. "God knows how much I was crushed when I thought that you were. And I dare not think of the future." Because it was right that Jack had shown her the letter, but it was too early to ask for her to do the right thing for the sake of the Navy because the thought of leaving him in a few months' time was too much to contemplate.

Stephen pulled her close, a his arms strong, his clever hands holding her, and somehow understood her unspoken qualification to herself of her words.

"You do the best thing you can to hasten the rest of our lives together, my beautiful darling. I will be a short time away; you will find something worthwhile to do. Would it help you to feel better to know that, shortly after you left we had Captain Baker, of the "Phoenix" and his lieutenant aboard? They found our four ships two days ago after another ship told them of their course. Captain Baker believes they are heading to Rochefort, to dock.

"He decided to harry them south, where Commodore Strachan was supposed to and spent all day yesterday chasing them far into roughly that area. He has ageed action with Strachan. There are four of Strachan's ships; two others had the same idea as "Phoenix" and followed the French ships. Unless any more chance on her, there are at least three more than their number. Jack and Captain Baker then agreed our role. We have a good chance," Stephen concluded, "especially seeing as all of the enemy's ships jettisoned half their guns to make them lighter!"

In the darkness Cicely shared the pinprick of joy. The enemy ships would be outgunned as well as outnumbered! More than good odds. As long as luck was on their side, the British ships would win the day. She felt Stephen sigh again and she smiled inwardly, not least at the apparent effort to recount the events from less than six hours ago and explain them to her.

"Will you do something for me, Cicely? Remain here while the battle ensues? Bar the door so I know you are safe?" When she hadn't replied, Stephen had raised his shoulders up to look at her in the eye. "Will you? Because I know that you, my darling beloved Cicely would fight like a tiger alongside the men, bettering a good number of them. But you pushed my skill as a surgeon to its limits a fortnight ago and I never want to have to operate on you again!"

Cicely leaned into her husband, taking care not to lean on the side which he had verbally highlighted as his handiwork.

"I will," she replied. "I promised you." And I promised the Admiral as a condition of our marriage. She smiled to herself, the expression hidden in the darkness.

Stephen extracted his arm from under his wife, bending to kiss her forehead in acknowlegement, before taking his leave, pulling his spectacles over from his desk and clasping his hand over his medical tools as he stepped into the early-morning winter darkness.

Cicely watched the door swing a little on its hinges, the light of the ships' lamps beyond illuminating the mid-deck without, glancing at Stephen's haphazardly-strewn ornithological writing before getting to her feet and securing the door with its cross-beam.

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"It was the "Santa Margarita" which closed the stern on the damned "Scipion"!" These were the words that were in Cicely's head now as she felt the saline drops of spray soak her face as William Rathbone, Margarita's captain beamed with pride into her mind.

"And "Formidable"," Thomas Baker, captain of "Phoenix" who had joined Rathbone at the fore, had replied at Richard Strachan's retelling, "not so now, eh, Aubrey?" Jack, Cicely pictured his face now, red and merry from rum had spent the evening hosting the captains of the engagement.

"Quite so, Thomas, quite so."

Indeed, it was an appropriate end to the Battle of Trafalgar. Fitzroy, Captain of "Aeolus", and "Pique" under Captain Ross, Alan Gardner, whose ship, "Hero", had been indeed heroic, by at first descending with the former upon Scipion with determination and then later tempting "Dougay-Trouin" to fire upon them, acquiring a little damage to their hull, but depriving the French frigate of precious firepower.

The battle had begun as dawn had broken. Quarters were beaten as the order of battle was carried out, each man from the lowliest powder monkey, through gunner, midshipman, lieutenant and captain himself. Cecilia had busied herself with newspapers dated six months before as she'd borne the solitude.

Both English and French had formed line to face one another by noon as Strachan had conveyed to be the strategy, but just off Cape Ortegal, outnumbered, and a hotheaded decision by Dumanour to engage Namur split their defensive line still further, and Scipion and Formidable struck their colours, Revolutionaire's Captain Hotham having encouraged this most strongly by aiming his nine-pounders towards the hull of "Formidable".

But "Mont Blanc" and "Dougay-Trouin" broke into a chase – ultmately brought to nought by HMS Hero and HMS Caesar, whose captains Gardner and Strachan himself, had brought yield submission after a fierce battering.

The battle had lasted nine hours, nine stomach-gnawing hours during which Cicely had done her best to settle with distractions once the papers had been discarded; mending (again); Stephen's work...even sleep, none of which had worked for long, but had secured outright supremacy of the Royal Navy over the oceans.

The ships, as now, in the haze of the rain and mist ahead of them, had been driven on before them, their officers imprisoned in the lower decks under Royal Marine guard, and the officers had allowed themselves a short time to celebrate their eminent success, the climax of the Trafalgar action, allowing Cicely to meet once more captains who had witnessed her marriage (or re-marriage), and some she had not; many had been at Aubrey's trial.

Strachan had given a speech to their success and that they were to sail for England, and at that point Cicely had experienced a variety of emotion: pride, of course, at the valour and courageousness of both the captains and the men beneath, several of whom she had nursed under Stephen that evening, but rather fewer, fortunately, than expected. Gratitude that so few lives were lost.

Happiness buzzed about her like a swarm of happy bees that the end of her involvement in all of this was – beginning as it had done so in the country of her birth when she had had been pursued by Wigg (the sting in the tale) although that had stilled to nothing as the captains, prior to retuning to their prizes, toasted the battle as Jack had called it. Stephen had reached for her hand.

"And yourself, Aubrey!" Baker, his slight stature almost a mirror to that of the Admiral himself, "I happened to be pursuing down to intercept Allemand of the Rochefort squadron and came across Dumanoir before you had arrived. I pursued them towards where we estimated Strachan to be - "

" - keeping the French out of our business in the Atlantic shipping!" interjected the more robust Strachan, beaming at his peers,

" - then we came across you!" He clapped Jack on the back, congratulatorily.

And now it was done, and they were advancing their northern longitudes far faster than Cicely imagined that they would and the feeling of dread, that had begun the previous night, at the marking of their success, had developed from a seed planted in her stomach to a healthy sproutling, and was growing with the journey, not west now, as had been "Surprise's" original orders, bearing her to Sarawak.

A "mere diverson", was how Aubrey had down-played their journey north to England, to Portsmouth, once the captains had reboarded their respective ships and lieutenants had been promoted to acting captains while they, in pairs, had seen fit to share responsibility for the prizes lest the French tried to evade their fate again.

At least there was one person who was fearing their destination more than her. On his own ship, Comte-Admiral Dumanoir would be wearing the ignominy as a shroud.

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Five days later and they had passed the Needles, off the west of the Isle of Wight. The weather front had not lifted and the weather was probably worse than that which they had endured up the west coast of France – free of attack of any sort – past Les Ercehous, where James Fillings had carried out his treachery, the greater Channel Islands and then due North East and towards Portsmouth.

Little had been discussed about what would happen when they docked; should she return to England the terms of her marriage would be null and void and all claim from her father or her father's prospective husband for her Magistrate Benjamin Wigg.

But by not disembarking meant she had not touched British soil. She was under the protection of her husband as long as she did not leave HMS Surprise.

She had confided little of her concerns to Stephen, only that she would be sorry to see him go to the business that he had in London. Two days he would be away, but had said no more. Cicely knew that William Wickham, once Stephen's spymaster who turned coat-tails as a double agent, engaging the weak James Fillings as Nelson's assassin, attempting himself the deed and had fled with one of the four escaped French ships. He had not said whether Wickham had been located on any of the ships, but she fervently hoped that, as a Jacobin in the pay of the notorious French spymaster Fouche, that he had, and this had prompted his business in the capital.

"I need to set some affairs in order," he had told her, kissing her tenderly the evening before. And while her mind wanted to speculate, to fill the void lacking in further detail she had instead acquiesed to sleep.

As half of the marines now departed the "Surprise", as custodians of the French prisoners until they were secured on land, Cicely bade Stephen a short, but sorry goodbye. Two days would be a long time and she promised that she would keep herself occupied with her cross-checking of his notes with Erasmus Darwin's "Zoonomia".

"We will be here a week," Jack had told her, seeing her face as the company departed. "I now am in possession of orders to take the "Surprirse" south, to Brazil again." Brazil. Stephen had told her that he also had business in Brazil, from letters and discussions from another naturalist, a Prussian, Count von Humbolt.

And, as Cicely went about her duties, with a weight almost visible on her shoulders Jack Aubrey recalled his own conversation with his surgeon, in which he'd asked Stephen whether it wasn't too soon to leave her, seeing as she had, up to three weeks before, thought him to be dead.

"She has risked so much on her own behalf to be with you," Jack had continued the evening before, as they had followed the pilot into Portsmouth harbour.

"It can not be avoided," Stephen had replied, in almost a half-whispr. "I amto visit Toby Hamilton, seeing as Wickham is no longer loyal. And wherever he is, damn him, no-one can say. There are other matters to which I must attend with the Royal Society, and several other things. Out voyage to the South Seas will mean I will not be here for another two years - "

" - at least," agreed Jack, watching Lieutenant Blakeney steer a skilful course behind the tiny boat before them.

" - and some things need to be set in order and will not wait."

"We sail Saturday," Jack reminded his friend, not wishing to press him further. "We will be in the South Americas by Yuletide, and, ha! Easter Island by Passiontide." He watched his friend glance towards the steps towards the lower gun-decks.

"Cicely has work and will be quite safe with me. She will no more cross to land as she would walk the face of the sun."

"She promised that my notes will be in order and wishes me to convey she will be true to her word to play no other role than my wife." Stephen grinned at Jack's expression, before leaving him to the business of docking and other intricacies of seamanship for the company of his beloved.


	3. The Present, The Future, The Past

The squall which had hung over the Solent seemed to have passed that week as Cicely waited for Stephen to return. She had indeed made inroads into his work, pointing out discrepancies, conflicting statements, and areas in which Zoonomia had the answers.

He had come back and, as Cicely had watched the small rowing boat coming in the direction of the ship, whence she had once taken step as a lowly private under Major Richard Blunt as they had taken passage to Quiberon Bay to crush a rebellion, it occurred to her that she had been feeling that she would never see him again.

Like last time.

Last time pricked her heart too often to mention; she felt at a loss without him by her side, and these last two days had been torture enough. But Cicely was level-headed enough to know that he would return promptly enough back to her.

Jack had taken his leave, visiting Sophie in their house not far from Fareham and, as various crew had also taken their leave, or gone ashore just for a day or a night, as the "Surprise" took on supplies and repairs had been undertaken, the comings and goings of the people she had once had as her comrades had entertained her when Stephen's work had got beyond her.

Lieutenant Blakeney had also visited his family, his mother and gaggle of elder sisters; less of a gaggle he had explained after returning from what had seemed like a testing afternoon for the lad, who was clearly used to taking the lead of groups of men, and sharing the company of other officers and less comfortable being fussed over by his mother for his complexion, height, appetite, immediate plans, less immediate plans ("She wants me to marry!" Will had complained to her as he had reboarded the ship).

And not once had she been tempted by the sights and smells, mercantile bounties or women of ill-repute as the sailors had, although some of the harlots did pause when they saw a plain-dressed woman amongst the company aboard as they followed their latest customer aboard.

So, halfway through the month of November and her wish had now come to pass: "Surprise" was sailing west, or more precisely, south-west, for South America was their destination, first to Brazil, and then, as before, round the horn and into the Pacific. The tempestuous Pacific, Jack had once called it. "Whoever heard of calling an ocean peaceful? It's the wildest and most treacherous body of water on God's holy Earth!"

It was their passage to the South Americas which was what Cicely was holding on to at this moment, and their docking in Sao Paulo (that excuse for a town – at least there'd be no John Fotherington this time!) for, although it was Saturday, and Stephen had met Jack's deadline, he was not with them.

The conversation three days ago had gone like this:

"Would you like to hear some wonderful news, my sweetheart?" Cicely had been sitting at his desk, peering at the hand of von Humbolt and endeavouring to decipher it when Stephen pushed open the cabin door and smiled widely at her.

Getting to her feet as the legs of the expensive oak chair scraped across the planks, Cicely embraced her beloved husband on his return, begging him to tell her of his time in the Capital, what he had done, and what the wonderful news was.

Captain Sir Richard Strachan had, for his prompt and forthright action been promoted to Rear-Admiral of the Blue, and admitted to the ancient and exclusive Order of the Bath, while all first-lieutenants were advanced to commander. Cicely was overjoyed, for that meant Will Blakeney. But that also meant that the next time he was back home his mother had yet another excuse to press matrimony on her son.

"Jack is to receive prize money, as are all who engaged," Stephen had continued, his face still ablaze with agitated excitement, "including you," he added. But when Cicely had gone to protest, for she had done nothing of worth, Stephen had quoted Jack, their captain – and friend – that by doing nothing, she had done everything.

"He is more than delighted with his gold medal for the trouble of the battle," Stephen had continued, and when Cicely had asked about his share, Stephen had acknowledged it, and then pushed it to one side, for the "wonderful thing" had turned out to be "Zoonomia", or rather, an invitation, one which, if he refused, would set his work back such a way that he may as well have given up on seeking entry to the Royal Society at all.

Stephen had not put it like that, of course. He had instead held her hand and said, in the way that always made Cicely melt, innards first, "Dr. Darwin, under whose care you out yourself has asked me to return "Zoonomia" to him." Cicely had nodded, wondering if that was the end of it, but sensed there was something more. "He asks," Stephen said slowly, looking careully into her eyes as if he had never seen them until that afternoon, "that I share my work with him. He has many connections in London, and my work is of interest to a group of scientists, engineers and thinkers who meet in a city not far from Shrewsbury."

"Then you must go," Cicely told him firmly. "You cannot miss out on an opportunity such as this. Dr. Darwin discussed this group of gentlemen at a dinner he was hosting, with another of his friends. "The Lunar Society" they call themselves, for they meet at full moon, so there is light enough to return safely home."

His look of shock took Cicely by surprise and it was at that moment that she realised that her husband probably felt the dilemma more acutely than she did, that leaving her for a short time was as bad for him as for her, however this was, as she had put it, a valuable opportunity. She was glad, so glad there and then, that she had made it easier for him.

Now, two weeks after seeing her husband depart "Surprise" again, Cicely was feeling a depression sinking upon her. Yes, she would see him soon – and the time she had to wait was far less than she had before, when Jack had told her Stephen had given his life for espionage. But that did not help the hopeless sense of vacuousness that fell about her as she had, for once, taken up the invitation to dine at the captain's table, with the newly-promoted commanders, once lieutenants, speaking of the celebrations which would soon be upon them in Brazil.

"And so, at the beginning of the Advent season," Jack had begun, we remember that this is a time of waiting, for remembering the life that came to the world to save us all. And - " he raised his glass higher for the climax, " - that the Messiah's birth was worth the wait. It is always worth the wait," he added, but in a lower voice, so only Cicely could hear.

Perhaps that was enough. Not long until she saw him again. He would take a boat to Brazil, a warship, or commission something, so as to catch up with "Surprise". He would need to, at any rate, if he were to continue with the entymological enterprise that he was about to undertake in the South Sea islands, another classification and taxonomic exercise, it would seem.

As she was about to take her leave to their cabin, not wishing for company or small talk, Captain Howard of the Marines waylaid her and asked Cicely her opinion on share option.

"It would seem that the markets are awash with it; new enterprises which have traded stock and the like. I would like to know your opinion."

Cicely hesitated in brushing the man aside and smiled. Late forties, and balding, but as full of energy and vigour as a marine half his age, John Howard had guarded Dumanoir's hold as the French prisoners had been taken to their fate in England. He had been the guard, too, on the both occasions she had raised her hand to Joseph Nagel, the latter incident of a full-on fight had seen the captain dragging Cicely from the errant Nagel, who had insulted her brother following his suicide.

He had joked, on the revelation of her gender, that he had known all along her true identity, for a man would have killed Nagel for less than that, and Cicely had joked that had he been a better shot she may not have been Mrs Maturin.

It was a joke that she hadn't repeated; Captain Howard had deep feelings of duty about the day that he had misjudged the timing to shoot the albatross which had been circling the ship, and had gone on to shoot Stephen. What she hadn't told John Howard was that, had he not, and she had not had a chance to nurse him, and admit her feelings for him, she may also not have been Mrs Maturin.

"I have been offered shares in guano," John Howard began. "What do you know of the market shares, Mrs Maturin?" he added, as Cicely felt somewhat giddily humoured by his offer, trying not to point out that any south-facing cliff in Argentina would offer him guano free of charge.

"The business allows for guano, a substance good for the ground, to be sold to help crops," he continued. "Do you think this would be a worthy investment?"

His large features were eyeing her earnestly; Howard clearly was serious about this. Perhaps his future as a marine was shortly to be coming to an end, for a man approaching fifty must surely feel the years more keenly than younger men, she had thought.

Then, a recollection of guano, the Anglicised name of the Spanish word which denoted sea-bird excrement, appeared in her mind. Von Humbolt had detailed the very substance in his letters to Stephen, and that it was a "virulent promoter of growth and strength in crops of all variants". So there was something in what Howard was saying, and she told him so.

He had thanked her profusely, and Cicely had enquired to his interest in share ownership. Indeed, he and Mrs Howard were looking for a more comfortable retirement. Cicely had spoken to the captain before about his home, and they shared a similar background; the "comfortable retirement" consisted of land near Bath where Mrs Howard could live out her days in society's ever-changing web of intrigue and gossip, where today's scandal was tomorrow's history. Cicely wondered why, if he was comfortably off, he was still in the marines, at least a class below his own.

"Mrs Howard has a mind to introduce me to gentlemen," Howard had answered for her and, as the conversation came to an end and she gave her apologies to Jack for not remaining longer in his hospitable company, it occurred to her that the reason Will Blakeney had been glad to return to the ship was more than likely the same reason John Howard had spurned society for so long: a dislike of socialising with the upper classes, the discussion of money and politics.

Like herself. That vile environment of "seen to be seen"; wearing "just the right shape/style/colour/country of origin garment"; having been to or indulged in "just the right business deal" or "the take over of a rotton borough guaranteeing a seat in Parliament". To Cicely's eyes, hateful, when the world meant more than money and power, and when other people mattered, and other causes than those which would drive the politicians.

Cicely had closed her eyes that night, the first night of the last month of the year, as six bells of the first watch rang out faintly to her hearing. An hour before midnight. But she could not find rest.

Her mind floated about her, like oil on water, as she recalled the evening, and tried to piece into it all that had happen and was about to. Four months and she would be safely away from the authority of the English crown, and the bond on her head. She would be able to help her uncle with the business he was making, and live a new life while Stephen finished his commission and was granted Society status.

With that money, a good deal to set them up for life, they could settle somewhere and raise a family – she was not yet too old – and sit with her children as they waved their father off to another expedition (Cicely was in no doubt that his work was something to which he was indentured for life).

It drifted too, to Captain Howard's treatment of her as an equal, and discussed with her matters of money thus.

Then the discovery that she was a woman; it was true indeed that she would not have been found out by Blakeney had it not been that Stephen had been in a feverish state and she had taken pity on him, allowing her deep-buried feelings to rise up and be seen.

Of course, it was bound to have happened that her gender would have been discovered at some stage following her incarceration, of that Cicely was in no doubt, such as her sentence for fighting had been the lash. What Nagel had actually said to her Cicely still couldn't remember, but her hand still bore a scar where she had hit him on the jaw.

Her now drowsy mind then rested on the last request of her husband, using the list she had kept of the people she owed, the Darwin family of The Mount, Shrewsbury being second upon it, after Sophie Aubrey, all of whom Stephen had promised to repay in full using her prize money, at her very strong insistence.

The white, Spanish silk gown that her husband had given to her just before he had trodden the planks and raised his long leg over the edge of the ferry-boat, as he had done less than a week before, filled her vision as her troubled mind fought sleep.

She would wear it, she had promised him, but only upon her return. Now, as her eyes yielded to the rest at last, Cicely dreamed of Stephen, of their past, and of their future.

88888888

Another conversation concerning the absence of Stephen Maturin was being recalled now by his best friend. Above the gun-deck, on the forecastle, the stillness of the cold night air was refreshing indeed.

He had seen Cicely's face that evening, one of sorrow, more so than she had done when she had believed Stephen dead.

"She pines for you, that I can discern," Jack had told his friend as he had given again to his friend for care his 'cello. "She will be the same, if not worse, once you tell her where it is you are going, and what you are doing."

The letter he held in his hand now, from Sophie, confirmed his worst fears, however as Stephen had explained it, Cicely had all but begged him to make the trip to Shropshire and engage with the good Doctor Darwin. He patted his pocket as he considered his wife's words: Sophie was concerned about her cousin's conduct towards Stephen Maturin, but perhaps this was Jack's interpretation of his wife's words. Sophie did not have the insight that Diana Villiers' letter had brought to him.

However Diana's reaquaintance with Stephen through a chance meeting with him at a function put on by her cousin, the Member of Parliament for Tamworth, to which the Lunar Society had been invited – whom the Darwins knew well, and Stephen by extension, must have been a shock to the woman, considering the letter Jack had written in response to the one he had received, and shown Cicely when Stephen was thought to be dead.

It appeared, depending upon the interpretation of Sophie's missive, that, "how funny it was considering that my dear Diana and Dr. Maturin had only just met, that they arranged to meet one another the following week. However, my darling, I do feel that the conversation was meant to be one just for themselves."

Fighting away his thoughts Jack tried to calm the voice in his head reminding him how insightful his wife was, banished Diana to the furthest realms of his conscious mind and turned it again to his friend.

"She and I were apart too long. But," Stephen's voice lowered, despite them being in his cabin and despite no other soul being around. "Were she to become with child, her injuries…it wouold kill her, I fear."

"Come, now!" Jack had retorted, laughing at what he felt his friend telling him as being surely a great exaggeration. "She is still very young..."

"But her injuries, to her stomach, arm, legs...never mind the burns she endured. I was grateful at the outset to have her alive. But now..."

Now, he was angry, Jack understood, absorbing like a blood in a jerkin the unspoken words that he knew to be hidden in his friend. Stephen was not prone to anger, but in this case anger did burn, white-hot at the Navy, at Mrs Aubrey, at Wigg and the King. Even at Jack himself. At Nelson. Anger at everyone for not keeping her safe.

"She pines for want of one, Jack. I could not, and will not, bear the look on her face were I to reveal that she were unlikely to carry to term again, and that she may die in the trying. She nearly died in the trying, the trying to return to me."

His friend had fallen into an awkward silence, and it was perhaps at this point, Jack thought, as he recollected the scene, that his thoughts were on his impending visit, namely who might his company be when he was in England.

"Perhaps," Stephen had justified, "when we get to South Pacific, this will take her mind off it. It is strange how her mind works."

"Is she a curiosity to you, then, my friend? Are you having second thoughts?" Jack's questions had come out of nowhere, and it had stunned both of them. Stephen's face turned to a cloud of indignation, but before he could rain down scorn upon his friend, Jack clarified, "Did you know that her father is a marquess? For someone of that standing she does not offer any of the societal airs and graces." The thunder faded, yet cumulous clouds remained on Stephen's facial forecast.

"I wish her to be with her uncle, that is certain, as I wanted her to stay with Sophie."

"She would not have left had her position as your wife been under threat. When you ask it of her, she is obedient. I believe you should be honest with her, for she has been honest with you."

Silence had enschewed, and one of those moments that felt like a lifetime had elaped when in fact it was a matter of seconds transpired at that point.

"I thought you didn't like the girl?"

"I do," Jack had retorted, hotly. "She is bold and daring, she has true spirit. It is just a pity she had to demonstrate in amongst my men and my ship. No," he'd concluded, "I don't dislike her…were she a man she would have shown herself true, earned my respect. She does not behave as a woman should."

"I love her, Jack," replied Stephen his words heavy. "I would die for her. It is because I do that I do not want her to be near. The work that I do, _we_ do. _Espion._ Not with so many…secrets that would bring her down. I know that doesn't make a jot of sense, but that is how I feel. How often do we run into skirmishes? Life and death situations? She is a good hand, if you're honest, and God forbid you tell her that she can't do anything…"

A silent agreement on Cicely's character, and not for the first time had Jack wondered that, in the years preceding Cicely's arrival on the Surprise he had not seen his friend this enlivened by another human. Birds, yes. Humans, no.

"No, no," Stephen had concluded. "Cicely thrives on it – it is a challenge to her because she thrives on being completely unlike what her father had in mind for her. What can I do other than to offer her a more appropriate occupation? And does not here present itself as an apt juncture? To be with her kin and occupy herself in relative comfort?"

"She can sew," Jack had replied, referring to the time Cicely had made it to the Surprise at Cadiz and, while he had decided what to do with her had given her some mending. To his amazement, and possibly to hers, she'd called his bluff and had done it.

"Don't be be obtuse! I'm being serious!"

"In Sarawak, natives will need schooling. So many tribes and little civilisation, they need education, religion, modern practices. Cicely has all of those."

One bell. The first of the middle watch, or half past midnight. Jack brough his mind back to the present and commanded his lieutenants, his _commanders_ , to adjust port, and bring the ship to full advantage of the strong north wind.

As he took a turn at the capstan, watching dark shadows appear to the left and right of the water, theatening gusts he wondered about his friend, when it seemed that all could was answered satisfactorily concerning Cicely Maturin, her residence with her uncle as Stephen pursued his naturalism, safe from the British; his own advancement with a relatively short visit to England, his obvious distress at Cicely's presumed reaction to her ability to bear children, and his fears about spying...he only took the role for the money to fund his naturalism; he was now in possession of more than enough gold that it would take to fund it.

All seemed congruous; all worked out to their advantage. And yet, something didn't sit right.

It wasn't really his business, Jack told himself sharply. However somehow, he felt Cicely deserved better. Feeling the wood under his grip, and the wind tearing his cheek, not for the first time Captain Jack Aubrey felt that there was more to this than Stephen was letting on. And somehow, it involved Diana.


	4. A Time and a Place

"Surprise" had been heading south-west for nearly a month now and Cicely had resigned herself to a longer parting from Stephen than she had at first thought. A month at sea now, and a week before Christmas; the frigate was to dock at Sao Paolo, in Brazil.

The journey had so far been one of a relative mundane nature, especially compared to the month before, and the crew had grown accustomed to the routine ship-work, with maintenance being carried out as the ship made sea-miles, a happier crew Cicely hadn't remembered in a long time. While enemy ships, were they to be spied, to be engaged, all aboard "Surprise" knew that the chances grew ever slimmer as Europe became further behind by the day.

Cicely had gone to see Jack shortly after they had upped anchor and made sail beyond the England's smallest county and well into the Channel. He had, he had told her, received word that the New World was their destination and Stephen had been delayed on business and intended to meet them in Sao Paolo.

Cicely had made the best impression that she could to her former captain of acceptance of his word, however the thought uppermost in her mind as she had continued with her transcription for her husband was that they were sailing in what amounted to one of the fastest sailing ships on earth, and so, unless he had sailed before them, it was difficult to see how Stephen would meet them in Brazil.

"Unfinished business", she had told herself, following that meeting and also, on each occasion she longed for him, the feeling coming to the fore often without warning. Unfinished business, Cicley told herself now, as she sought sleep that night, the warmer air now permeating every facet of the ship, telling all who could read the latitudes that they were heading to the southern hemisphere where December meant shorter, balmy nights, rather than cold, dark, snow-filled days.

Unfinished business. Like that which had occupied his thoughts when he had departed the "Surprise" shortly after she herself had been sent to stay with Sophie Aubrey. Unfinished business with William Wickham, the slight, unassuming man, with no particular defining features, adept and cunning, perfectly suited to spying who had, ultimately, been in the pay of the French spymaster Fouche, the butcher in the Calais prison, whom Cicely had encountered after being captured with Harris at the doomed Quiberon Bay invasion; Fouche, who had only stayed his hand at his barbarous practice beecause she had been in a unique position for his advantage.

Damn the man, Cicely thought to herself, as the waves, no longer lashing as if hating all floating vessels, as they had done in the days after departing her never-again-to-be acquainted with homeland, licked soothingly at the hull. Joseph Fouche must now, she expected, be mired in self-revulsion at his own catastrophic misjudgment – to allow Nelson to be assassinated, and to keep Wickham where he needed him. William Wickham, in the true sense of the phrase was a loose cannon, unable to be trusted by either side for which he was in receipt of pay. So it was only to be expected that the stakes had risen even more highly at such spectacular failures.

It was funny though. She had come across Wickham before. Cicely knew very little of the man, yet he had been known in social circles by those she used to avoid, when she lived at home under her father's roof; the man had even been a dinner guest at a party her father had arranged when she had been much younger, and before their father had forced a midshipman commision upon Edward, her brother. Just what _was_ that man's motive? He had been at one; his name floating about upon the sea of society, but again, nothing defining him or making him singular in a particular way. He seemed too shrewd for espionage to be just money, or even, just power. Jack, when he had given her the news – and perhaps expected her to fold emotionally - had probably right; she knew Stephen well enough that a mystery unsolved would be subject to his scrutiny.

Perhaps it had been a sign that she had been kept awake with such thoughts on her mind that Cicely felt she could not rest, however no rest was to be had for the remainder of the night her nursing skills were called upon by Commander William Blakeney for four men, two topmen, who climbed the rigging and had been caught by the cross-mast beam coming loose from its stay, and a deckhand who had been clumsy with wooden scrape-broom that was used to remove barnacles from the outside of the hull, and had been caught with the cross-mast as it headed towards the sea, taking several of his fingers with it.

Sao Paolo, Cicely thought, as she pulled her day-dress on – for the sake of decency (decency expected of her by her Captain and his crew, at least) – and followed her friend as he headed across the mid-deck and up the taffrail to the quarterdeck, where she could see in the clear evening light that Higgins was in attendance and her assistance was needed in bandaging and general bedside soothing. Higgins was doing his best, God love him, with Padeen Colman hopping from foot to foot.

Padeen, Stephen's servant, by and large, who had accompanied him from Ireland and had boarded the ship with him in Minorca, was now more a member of the "Surprise" crew, helping in almost every capacity imaginable. Together they were second to Stephen in ministering aid to Jack's crew. Second, however, being a position that was relative, for their skills were negligible in comparison. Even Jack Aubrey could not mask his expression of resignation at the lack of ability of those tending his men.

"Harris, help Mrs Maturin, if you please." Jack's voice rang in the clear warm air as Cicely attempted to lift Dai Williams, who had fallen from the rigging, into a better position, but had not stopped to witness more of Higgins' and Padeen's incompetence.

Cicely sighed. It wasn't as if Higgins was bad, more that Stephen was so good. She beamed a smile at Matthew Harris as they lugged poor Williams into a more comfortable position, a pile of sheet from the broken mast used as a temporary pillow. But she couldn't help notice Jack's attention being given to the repair of the coss-mast piece. Just a little too much, as if to block out the thoughts that she too was thinking.

"Fingers look bad for Evans," commented Harris, as they approached the other top-man. "If you see to him, I'll make Simcox more comfortable." Cicely's eye looked across to Daniel Simcox, who had been precariously balanced over the stern de-barnacling, and had concussion from the end of the cross mast. The man was quietly howling every so often.

Colman yelled something at the man in Irish, which of course he couldn't understand, and then Higgins had pushed Cicely in his direction, declaring "the face of a beautiful woman will always put you at your ease."

"Never mind," chuckled Captain Howard, his joviality breaking the stillness of an awkward job, "you'll have to make do with Mrs Maturin." The sarcastic reposte worked, Cicely laughing in feint indignation and the rest of the makeshift medical team and patients joined in.

A week away till Christmas Day, Cicely thought, as she got on with the job in hand, when the birth of the Messiah would be celebrated by all civilised nations. Just one week. Everyone needed their Doctor back.

88888888

Laurent Lebec, the former captain of the Acheron and French royalist, who had borne witness at Jack Aubrey's court-martial, and with as much hatred for William Wickham and Joseph Fouche as ever Stephen Maturin had, boarded a ship that would bear him east.

88888888

The few days had been almost too much for Cicely to bear. Now in their twenties, the dates on December were progressing to the Saviour's day, when her darling would return to her very slowly. However, it felt as I she was like a child waiting for the day, one known to be filled with unparallelled delights and finding that the hours were creeping past tortuously.

Finding it hard to put her mind to anything of her husband's work, Cicely was growing restless, and with no other nursing required of her, she stood on deck when a very excited Blakeney betraying his still tender fourteen years told her that the lights of the city of Sao Paolo could be seen. Ignoring her own mind reminding her that she knew the place so well, she allowed the boy to regale her of the places of interest, and what the crew had done the last time they were in port. Cicely was well aware of the time that he was discussing: this was the time that she had scraped together everything she had to charter a crossing to the wharf where "Surprise" were taking on hands, in the hope that she would be able to get a position and be with her beloved brother.

She had spent the night in a room above an insalubrious bar, gaining unwanted attention from the numerous women of negotiable affection that frequented it, looking for trade from recently paid Jack Tars. Cicely knew a tailor whom she had given more of her money prior to this for seaman's garb, for she had long since worn out those she had acquired in London, money earned in aforementioned bar for menial tasks until too many questions began to be asked.

Many of the drinking houses in Sao Paolo were like this; run-down, decrepit in some places, their main source of income the shipping trade when sailors docked for an evening or two, on leave with money burning a hole in their pockets and a mind to kick back and have fun.

"We will be docked in port tomorrow, Sissy," Blakeney continued, staring out at the city scape, such as it was, of low-built houses and, in the backdrop, the monastery tower that appeared to be looming over the city and its inhabitants, like a watchful moral eye reminding any who needed it that confession was only a few hundred yards away.

"Of course, they're papists," Blakeney had added, pointing out the houses – unnecessarily, of course, for Cicely had spent longer than William Blakeney in said city as she had tried on so may occasions to board "Surprise" to be with her Edward almost two years ago. Cicely, who had made herself attend a Protestant service, at least, wherever she had been at Christmas since absconding from her father's house, had intended to be amongst a congregation the following night. But a Roman Catholic church...that was all that the Brazilian city offered, of course.

"We cannot all repair to a church," he continued, "but Captain Aubrey will read aloud to the crew from the bible and conduct an ecumenical service on Christmas Day." Cicely found herself nodding, hoping that she was doing a good enough job of looking as if she was listening, when in fact she was thinking about what she had been doing the year before. Aboard a merchant ship working the lines, she remembered, with only a word or two in deference to the season. Church could wait when a ship sailed under the constraint of time with shareholders' profits in the balance. Stopping to worship the Lord, even on the occasion of his birth was no excuse. The Royal Navy, at least, respected religious worship and tradition.

As Blakeney went to instruct the midshipmen with the tasks that the tars would be doing in preparation for landing Cicely made to Stephen's cabin, looked hopelessly at the next stage of transcription before her eye catching the pile of stitching of which several tunics and breeches were in desperate need. She sighed, having no stomach for either. The latter, she considered, at least was something which needed to be done immediately; Jack had asked her to do in order to free up time of his men who were needed for ship repair.

At the time, Cicely had stifled the urge to remark that she would prefer the latter repair rather than the former but now, digging as she was the needle into a shoulder seam and pulling the two edges of fabric together, the mind-numbing monotony of the task was somehow soothing, so much so that she didn't hear Jack Aubrey knock on Stephen's open cabin door.

He coughed, and out of her own thoughts Cicely brought her mind to the present, noticing now Jack's genial smile, the tiniest of little smirks playing at the corners of his mouth as she discarded the uniform.

"You did ask, and it was long overdue." Cicely began her justification for the sewing in a convincing manner, but was saved what was to be the embarrasing pause when the old joke between them would have broken. Cicely hated sewing and had openly told Jack this, to the extent that it was a running joke between them.

But Jack was not about to rib her over sewing now; a more serious look had taken hold of his features and he stepped in.

"May I close the door, Cicely, or would you prefer to attend above, in my cabin?"

"Here is fine," replied Cicely hurriedly, pushing the work into the corner next to Stephen's desk. "Jack – what is it? You can tell me in the head, for all I care!"

"No, Cicely, calm yourself, " Jack cautioned her, laughing a little as he spoke, for he knew the graveness in his voice had immediately brought forth the memory of the last time she had been compelled to stitch for the Service, and the news that had preceded it. "Dr. Maturin is quite well, as far as I am to understand. He sends word - " Jack held aloft a letter, folded in three, with a wax seal, "and prays you forgive him another day, until Christmas Day, when he will be able to rejoin us."

"Christmas Day?" Cicely swallowed. She was sure Jack had told her Christmas Eve, for she had hoped that she might convince Stephen that their souls would benefit by visiting a house of worship – even if it was Papist – for she had a lot to be thankful to God for.

She was aware that she might have been staring a little too long, and Jack had stopped talking, looking back at her with concern before gesturing to Stephen's chair, in which Cicely had so often seen her him sit, examining dead examples of nature, sketching them, or writing, having so often mounted a covert spying operation, so to speak, in the guise of Robert Young. She sat, expectantly.

"The doctor prays you forgive his asking that I bear the news to you." Jack looked back from Cicely to the letter, as if having never seen the words before, and feeling compelled to read them carefully to her. Cicely forced herself not to make wild speculations aloud – or even in her mind. This was a serious matter for Jack to have sought her out almost immediately that mail had been delivered to "Surprise".

And serious it was. The letter from Stephen, which he held out for Cicely to read, consisted of the words that Jack had paraphrased, asking him to tell her that Christmas Day was when he was due to be back on board. Inside was a second letter, from a solicitor from Hammond Gardens, detailing to Stephen, as the next of kin to the estate of Richard Hollum, the death of the aforementioned, with the money with respect to the estate passing to him, as husband of his only living relative.

"Me?"

"Quite so, Cicely." Jack folded the letter in his large hands before passing it over to her. Cicely opened it as if it were on fire, and read it again herself. She looked at Jack, mouth trembling.

"It seems we have a reason for Stephen's absence these last weeks, Mrs Maturin," he chuckled, smiling warmly at her. "I am so very sorry to hear of your loss."

"I'm... _not_!" whispered Cicely, shaking away the feeling of shame that came with insulting the dead, and instead bounced out of the mahogany chair, gripping Jack Aubrey in an embrace so tightly that his sharp intake of breath might have been as a result of this, rather than the hug itself. And then she dampened his shirt ever so slightly with salty tears, relief of years leaving her body, as an antagonistic spirit might from a possessed body. Jack just held his friend's wife close, letting the emotion run its course.

"I am sorry," he said at length, when Cicely felt she could pull away. "You have often told me he was never the father he could have been for you and your brother. But...may I postulate a positive angle on all of this?" Cicely looked up, her eyes stinging with salt as she waited expectantly, and the words came from Jack's mouth as if rehearsed.

"Now, at least, Cicely, you may return freely to England if you wish, unbound to any possible legal obligation to the matrimony you opposed."

Yes, thought Cicely, as Benjamin Wigg crossed her mind. At liberty to return to be free.

"Stephen says that, while he is legally the benefactor of the wealth of your father's estate, it is yours to do as you wish," Jack added, as Cicely took up the letter again. "The funds," Jack continued, as Cicely sought to make sense of her husband's so-familiar hand, "though not a trifle are, nevertheless, not altogether plentiful, either."

"He says that it is mine," Cicely echoed.

"Yours." Jack reiterated.

"But, I have no need for it, Jack. And Stephen needs all that he can for his commission." And then another thought occurred to Cicely, one more important than money. Her eyes shone, as if she had just discovered the secrets of the universe.

"It's Stephen's! Of course it is, Jack!" He looked at her, confused, but Cicely pressed on, animated as thoughts bombarded her brain. "Because...because...don't you see? Lord Nelson...we are married, Jack, don't you see?"

Jack's face crumpled a little. He didn't see. He hoped he looked expectant for a more clear explanation, and that Cicely would give him one. She did not disappoint.

"The law of England...it has declared in this letter..." she paused, trying to consolidate the words that were cascading in her mind like a turbulent waterfall, "...if Stephen has been declared benefactor, then it follows that he must be my husband in the eyes of the law of Great Britain, as it stands. Lord Nelson's gift in witnessing our marriage...it's legally been recognised. And our legitimacy cannot now be called into question!"

Jack reached for her hand, and held it tenderly, but said nothing. It was the happiness that she had always sought, and it seemed no money could replace this peace of mind. Of course she was happy to forego money when all she wanted was a legitimate marriage to his friend.

"You have no need to worry about this now, Cicely," said Jack, reassuringly. "It seems the talented doctor has this in hand. Will you join me for dinner this evening with the officers? Mowett has procured some of the local produce, so he has told me; Killick was busy shouting and banging in the galley as I came down. Cicely nodded, gripping tightly Stephen's letter.

He needn't have written, Jack thought, as he ascended to the main deck. He could have told Cicely in person. But then, perhaps even he didn't know what he was doing between England and Sao Paolo.

Looking across the short water to the shore of the city of Sao Paolo, Jack wondered again why he was concerned with business of a marital type not concerning him. And yet...

...lights flickered ashore as dusk prompted more households to light candles in deference to the season...

...he had long considered Cicely in a sisterly manner and, as such, wished to protect her from harm.

Perhaps there was nothing in it, he sighed, breathing heavily on his pipe, tobacco smoke coiling into the still night sky. And yet, the manner, rather than the words of his wife's letter were still on his mind, as he attempted once again to force mental distance from himself and the Maturins.

When Stephen returned he would discuss the matter. There would, Jack told himself, watching as a rowing boat neared, bearing three marines back from patrolling the city streets in the wake of the crew, be a simple explanation, of that he was certain. Especially as the boat bearing post for nearly all of the crew, most of it good news, and good cheer, had brought he himself news of a similar vein.

Something to share at Christmas dinner, thought Jack, as he met briefly with his former Lieutenants. Especially with the guests who were to be joining them.

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	5. Pellew

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Seven bells of the forenoon watch. Seven-thirty in the morning. Cicely's ears recognised the sound, but her eyes refused to open yet. Cocooned in several blankets with her facing the oak timbers that comprised the walls of the cabin Cicely felt disinclined to open them now, even though she knew that it was a good two hours after she usually rose.

Bits of the previous day bounced around in her brain, of Blakeney enthusiastically reciting the names of the streets of the city of Sao Paolo; of Jack Aubrey in the cabin; of the waves breaking on the stern of the ship as the hands cleaned it. Of nursing a couple of wounded men who had been working on maintaining the ship.

But, what had made her so lacklustre, so absent of her usual energy? Looking at the knots and striations in the wood a part of her brain was screaming at her a silent answer, but when her cerebellum questioned it, in the foggy, vague manner of someone who had just woken up from a very deep sleep, the occipital lobe fell suspiciously silent.

And then the reason filtered into her brain like flour through a sieve. Aubrey had received a message from her beloved Stephen that her father had died, she was free of the threatened legal claim on her hand in marriage and that their marriage, that of Dr. and Mrs Maturin was legitimite.

Cicely stared at the wall for a good deal of time as she allowed her brain to come to terms with the enormity of the situation. Never in her wildest dreams did she think her father would die so soon and so suddenly; part of her felt a stab of sorrow that her other parent was now passed over, and that she was now the sole remaining person alive in her family.

Images of Edward appeared in her mind's eye, joined shortly afterwards by images of him, Cicely and her father, of her father berating Edward for imagined, or exaggerated, misdemeanours; of Richard Hollum sending his only son away on commission as a midshipman. He had beaten Cicely when he decided that she was defying him - sometimes she had thought defying thoughts, but more often than not these discrepancies were the result of her father's paranoia, promising her she would make her useful to him. Edward used to take her beatings, this she knew, for they increased with frequency and intensity upon his departure, though swiftly drained to nothing once Wigg was in the picture.

As she was contemplating rising from her very comfortable position in Stephen's cot, the small, built-in bed that only his and Jack's cabin boasted, wrapped, as she was in all the blankets contained therein Cicely heard voices on the deck, outside the cabin and could just make out, through the indistinct words a voice which seemed to be Will Blakeney's, but which died away again quickly as if he had been summoned to duty.

She would get up. It was a new dawn. It was Christmas Eve. There was a new order in the world today, which would lead to a new life for her, both with her Uncle Godwin, who had business interests in Sarawak, particularly the Carteret Islands. And Stephen, with whom she could live without fear of their oneness questioned.

That her beloved Stephen had allowed himself to bear the burden of bureaucracy with respect to her father was something she felt was truly honourable and noble, not least that he had declared her father's effects hers. And he was to return to "Surprise" the next day.

She must, she _must,_ at least, have something for him as a gesture of Christmastide, for Jack had told her the previous evening that there was to be a dinner on Christmas Day evening, following the service on board ship in the morning; all men would partake in double rations, including grog, and celebrations, either aboard, or on land, would be permitted.

There would be particular guests, Cicely remembered Jack saying, though at the time it had been on the verge of her hearing, for she was still taking in the news of her father.

Dressing quickly in cool, wide breeches and loose smock, a compromise, and a deference to femininity while still retaining practicality, Cicely stepped onto the mid-deck, then climbed with purpose to the quarterdeck, the sun beating down onto her skin. A glorious, glorious Christmas Eve. And already several rowing boats were in use, with several of the "Surprise" crew within; others from two other naval vessels – one a larger man o' war, the "Indefatigable"; the other "Star", a similar frigate to "Surprise" - were joining them, and they intermingled like ants in an apiary as they approached the shore.

"Captain Howard?" Cicely knew what she needed to do; to ensure her safety, and thereby minimise the concern that may otherwise be afforded her she knew she needed a chaperone, someone in whose company there could be no doubt...the man turned, his face jovial as ever, smiling as she pinked a little, not because of the task, but because, after so long she would be able to see her beloved, his face, long fingers, ice-blue eyes...this someone, John Howard, would be able to ensure the little money she had got to where it needed to go, and negotiate on her behalf, if necessary. For she knew exactly what gift she wanted to buy for Stephen.

She had had to put it to Jack, of course, whom she knew would have reservations at her proposed excursion that, as Stephen would be with them tomorrow she was in need of a Christmas gift and that she had taken the precaution of asking Howard to accompany her, for the sake of propriety. She had a little of her own money, Cicely had explaind, not that she was in need of it, from wages. It would come in useful at some time, Cicely had told herself. And now seemed to be the right time too.

He had been surprised at her request, expressing such as she had explained her plan that her organisation was faultless and without burden on his crew, who would themselves be allowed to celebrate this Christmas time. He wished her well, too, and had then taken the trouble to invite her, and Stephen, to Christmas dinner formally.

Cicely smiled as the mid-morning sun beat down on her and her escort; Captain Howard was staring out at the shoreline, all the prettier in this weather and for its purpose; the last time she was there she was desperate to get aboard "Surprise" to be with her brother, and had done desperate things in order to do so. Now, the pretty, Portuguese-style buildings irradiated their white frontages from the coastline, the streets filling a little with people preparing for the holy day. Behind the quayside and the shops were some taverns and hostelries, and behind those houses. At the very back of the tableau was the church, its tower pushed up high, its large bell visible for some miles.

"What a glorious day, Mrs Maturn." Mr Howard was smiling widely as she turned her head; a legitimate excursion from the ship was obviously doing the man some good. "And what have you in mind for Christmas for the good doctor?"

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Half an hour later, with cages and crates under arms, Cicely and John Howard breathed as the midday sun beat down on them. Their journey had taken them deep within the city, one which Cicely was all too familiar, and they had found themselves at the marketplace, Cicely in the market, so to speak, for just one thing. Animals. Native animals from Brazil, ones which Cicely knew that Stephen would be interested in. Unfortunately, the thing about animals from a marketplace, as the two of them were discovering, was that the animals, and their cages, were somewhat bulky, and also that several of them really didn't want to be in said cages.

Taking them back to the ship had been slow and clumsy, but they had managed it, and the ferry-boats belonging to "Suprise" had willing helpers in the form of the crew. At the wharfside Howard was loading on a pair of parakeets that were just coming round from what seemed like some form of sedation when he realised that Cicely, who had been handing the animals to him was not there.

Indeed she had been doing just that, the heat of the day having made her put them down to catch her breath. The quay was bustling with people as sailors and ferrymen brought in people from the surrounding area close to Sao Paolo by sea. Two such ferries had docked close by and the oarsman had jumped out, in Portuguese said something to his boat passengers, then quickly moved the boxes and cages out to the back of the quay some way from the "Surprise's" ferry. Cicely had protested, and then had begun the process of moving them back, but had got lost in the crowds of people who were coming along the quay and pushed backwards and into a side street.

When at last Cicely did manage to navigate her way through the mass of bodies she saw the red jackets disappearing before being pushed off into another street by a swell of people.

Not knowing quite where she was, Cicely tried to get her bearings but, by rounding a street corner, then into another, she found herself further and further away from the docks, each one more decrepit than the first.

What was she to do? The buildings seemed to be getting narrower wherever she went, and she recognised no-one. Cicely stopped, looking around her. Then, some shouts drew her attention to a corner she hadn't seen just now and she made her way to it. Down there, she could see several men, all in sailing attire, pushing one another and arguing. None of them were from the Surprise, so she made to go, her glimmer of hope at a swift return to her ship dashed to one side.

Stepping back the way she came, she could hear the voices louder behind her, and heavy footsteps. Cicely turned, only to be confronted by the men, gathering her up in their wake as they thundered past her, before realising that, though dressed boy-like, she was not one of them.

Cicely recognised the look, one of realisation, that the figure they had passed was not one of their gender, and she was nearly too quick for them, ducking under the arm of the largest, broadest of them, and away. But a hand on her shoulder drew her back, and to the wall of the inn down whose passage they had been, arguing. All three of their faces were leering; the one who had caught her leaning closest, and shouting something in her face in Portuguese.

Cicely breathed in, waiting for her brain to come to her aid, with a plan to get away, but none came. She was at the mercy of the men who, by the stench of them, had been in the inn against whose wall one of them was holding her. Neither clemency, nor reason, would work.

Gripping her harder, the man made to pull her from the wall, his face animated, though Cicely could not work out what he was saying, and she tried to slip under his arm, but he held her fast, his tone one of triumph, and mockery.

But then another voice cut through the air, just behind them, first in Portuguese, then in a language she did understand and, like the Red Sea for Moses, the men parted, leaving her standing there, before looking at one another and running off.

"An excellent choice they made, what?" A man, tall, rather old, in Rear-Admiral uniform stood in view, offering her his hand. "My dear, are you hurt?"

"No, sir," replied Cicely, wondering how he could tell she was female when, in wide breeches and a loose blouson, her hair, not short, but certainly not womanly, pulled back in a fashionable bow. She eyed his features a little wondering if she knew him, whether he had been at Trafalgar as an Admiral for Nelson. She didn't recall him at Jack's court-martial, nor at her wedding.

"May I introduce myself, madam?" He closed his hand over hers and led her along the passageway. "My name is Edward Pellew, of His Majesty's Navy. To what do I owe the pleasure of the company of...?"

"Cicely Maturin," Cicely replied. "I was with an escort, from Her Majesty's Ship "Surprise", but in these crowds I became separated from him, and got lost. I need to get back before my absence becomes a burden for Captain Aubrey." Admiral Pellew raised his eyebrow at her last remark, and smiled, holding open the inn door for her to enter.

"Allow me to accompany you then, my dear; I and Mrs Pellew are to dine with your Captain tomorrow night, and I would consider it an honour to return you safely." Cicely stopped in the threshold of the inn, looking up at the Admiral.

"Then may we leave now? That the Royal Marines would have returned without me would cause some alarm." I

"I should think so," he replied, looking her up and down, analysing her critically. "But surely, you are in need of a little refreshment? Look, I can send word to the ship: you look shaken, my dear."

Cicely looked in at the inn; she did not recognise this tavern from her last time in Sao Paolo; and yes, a few minutes to get over her shock would be welcome.

As Admiral Pellew invited her to sit, engaging a member of the bar staff to send a short, handwritten message to "Surprise", he asked her how she came to be aboard the ship, and why she, as a married woman, came to be dressed in such a manner.

"I would describe them as practical, working clothes," Cicely replied, a small sherry-wine in hand, contrary to her faith but essential to her nerves on this occasion, as bluntly as the Admiral had asked it of her. "I nurse on behalf of my husband, a surgeon on Captain Aubrey's ship. However, he was...detained in Britain when last we docked. I took the opportunity to procure him a gift."

"And what would that be?"

"Something to help him with his commission."

There was a pause, as a look crossed over the man's face, before looking at her sharply, his brows creasing into a frown.

"Your name?"

"Cicely. Maturin. My husband is Dr. Stephen Maturin." There. The first time she had been happy to declare it without fear of recourse. But Edward Pellew's face had clouded further.

"Good grief!" he exclaimed, leaning backwards and raising his eyebrows in astonishment. "Not the fellow who saved Nelson's life? Why, he is famous the country over! Disguised as a humble seaman he defeated an assassin!"

Cicely smiled, a part of her beaming with pride, not only at her own subterfuge – for it was of course, she who had taken his name and saved Nelson's life. But that Stephen had been given formal credit for the action.

"Tell me, what gift did the wife of such a man afford her husband? Clothing? Precious stones? The Amazon is full of emeralds and rubies, so I'm told. And Argentina of silver."

"Animals. Several species of monkeys," she recounted. "Rats and mice. A cockatoo and several other of the local birds. All with food, and a map with the location in which they were discovered. It is loading these animals that I got lost in the confusion."

"Whatever did you buy these animals for?"

"Stephen is a naturalist, and pursuing his work in order to gain a recognition within the Royal Society. Money cannot buy him a commission. Only an original thesis into animals. I do not know the details Captain, but I do know that Stephen is interested in the origin, and natural history of these animals. What came before and what is extinct. There is a naturalist, who has tramped almost the whole of this country, whose hypothesis is at odds with the evidence that Stephen has collected so far and he feels he needs a good deal of evidence to make a strong case."

"You are a singular woman, Mrs Maturin. I can't imagine how you could have done this for your husband, and be halfway around the world without him. It must take some courage."

You wouldn't believe the half of it, thought Cicely, as Admiral Pellew leaned back in his chair a little, and looked at her, thoughtfully.

"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself, Admiral? Did you serve at Trafalgar?"

"It is my misfortune that I did not. I was promoted last year and have been on my way to my commission in India. No, my dear, there is little to tell about myself, just an old, run-of-the-mill Admiral."

Cicely smiled. A man who was an admiral could not have, by definition, a run-of-the-mill career.

"You must have done something substantial to earn Admiralcy..."

"Nothing much to tell, Mrs Maturin," Pellew shook his head. "My wife accompanies me on this rare occasion; she wishes to see India and, being childless, we have no dependents to have to worry about. She is willing to forego the social circles this season, she says she tires of it. I am sure you will get along."

"Get along?"

"Didn't you know? Captain Aubrey has invited myself and Mrs Pellew to Christmas dinner. And, I should have the pleasure, should I not of your husband's company? A naturalist, you say? He may be interested in the specimens I have aboard from India. Nothing to his, I hasten to add.

The conversation lulled, and Cicely hoped she did not bear her sorrow of Stephen's absence on her features. She fought or something to say. But it seemed, like Jack, Edward Pellew had continued his reminiscing about the service as he offered to now return her to "Surprise", and continued as they made their way through the less crowded streets and Cicely made to concentrate on the man's obvious love of the service, in the same way it was loved by Jack Aubrey.

But, interesting as the anecdotes were – and Cicely was always genuinely interested in naval strategy, plus other topics of possible interest: the situation in the Peninsula; society; the King and a possible Regency – thoughout it all the nagging sentence that Pellew had implanted in her mind bore down into it, like a stone in water, of Stephen and the nature of his absence.

"Before we go, may I avail you of another favour? I promised Captain Aubrey I would live a quiet life from now on." Captain Pellew eyes her torn clothes, nodding. "I have money," she added, "thanks to you."

"I believe a suitable shop lies along the streets towards the harbour. I'll happily accompany you, Mrs Maturin, for the sake of propriety. And you can perhaps tell me how you came to meet your husband, and be aboard Captain Aubrey's ship..:?"

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"I chanced upon your surgeon's wife as she lost company with her escort. She asked me to deliver her safely back to you, Captain Aubrey, and assure you of her utmost respectability."

The evening light had come to the harbour. Long shadows were being cast by the city's buildings and the people around the quay. On deck, a very relieved Captain Aubrey was alternating between a grateful expression to the Admiral and one of relief to Cicely.

"May I be so bold as to ask you, sir, to honour us with your presence this evening? We are absent still of Dr. Maturin but, may I say on his behalf, how grateful we are to receive Mrs Maturin back in one piece in; we did get your message, sir. And returned in what I must say, madam - " he looked Cicely up and down for a moment, trying to contain his mirth, " - a most fetching outfit."

"One indeed fitting for the wife of a naval surgeon," Admiral Pellew interjected, a slight chastisement in his tone.

"Indeed."

"And I must decline the invitation, Captain," Pellew added, looking down his long nose, though his tone softened slightly. "Mrs Pellew is expecting me. We are to attend midnight service at the city's cathedral, papist as it may be, it must do to serve on the night of the Lord's birth."

"Tomorow, then, and will we meet Mrs Pellew?"

"Tomorrow," the Admiral nodded. "My wife would delight in softer company, and so yes, will be with me." At this, he looked at Cicely. Oh lord, he expects me to wear this! Cicely's heart sank. But she did owe it to Jack who, though now post-captain, needed an Admiralcy of his own to secure his family.

"Cicely!" Jack embraced her heartily once the Admiral had left. "Captain Howard was beside himself – whatever happened?"

"I got lost in the crowd. A lot of people had caused me to get jumbled up with them when I was reaching for the..." she stopped. Had the animals made it aboard?

"They're in the hold; heavens I didn't want to mention that in front of the Admiral. He is taking his commssion very seriously; he has grown into the service after all these years," Jack put his arm around her, escorting her below decks, "whoever'd have thought he was the same man who defied his own captain to rescue an East Indiaman..."

Cicely felt her eyes widen. She had heard this story before...Jack's former Lieutenant,Pullings whom he had made captain of the Acheron, when they had engaged it in the South Pacific. He had told her he had waited on "Les Ercehous", the tiny rocks in the English Channel, hallucinating about Pellew rescuing them. The incident was somewhat famous in the navy, it appeared.

"That is _the_ Pellew?"

"The very same. He has been commissioned to India; I took the liberty of inviting him to Christmas Day dinner once I knew his ship was anchored here. And so, my dear, in the continued absence of your husband this evening - " he looked her up and down in an outfit that was suited to a Portuguese widow – one which Pellew had asked for, and Cicely had felt unable to refuse - "would you accompany me to the midnight service at the papist cathedral?"

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Cicely felt her heart hammer in her chest. The view of the cathedral was enough, its doors open like the mouth of a demon, consuming the faithful as they attended homage to the Lord on the occasion of his birth. She knew that it was just a building, and that her being there was not a betrayal to her Wesleyan beliefs.

But, nevertheless, a feeling of wrongness was still there. If she was to attend a church to mark the Saviour's incarnation of Godliness into human form it should be in her own church. The lights were enticing, warm and tempting. She would be, stepping over the threshold, entering a world of doctrine, one of ritual and hierarchy, which was entirely opposite to her own.

Cicely must have clutched Jack's arm tightly, for he had stopped walking and was looking at her.

"What is the matter, Cicely? You don't have to come. I can escort you back."

Cicely said nothing, but the feeling of dread was stll there.

"God will still be there, no matter how it's packaged..."

"Very well put," Jack replied, but Cicely looked at him, quizzically.

"Wize words," he added.

"Yes," nodded Cicely, realising that she must have spoken them aloud, her eyes drifting to the cathedral door again. "It's a pity they are not my words." And then she swallowed, feeling an unbidden lump in her throat. Even now, when such a thing as attending church, when she herself thought very little of her own religion that she declared herself to be, Edward was there, telling her that it didn't matter. It didn't matter that she recognised the Messiah's birth in a humble, stark, basic chapel or here, with the richness of the world displayed in the Lord's honour. Just that she did was enough.

"Edward," she said simply, her reluctance melting away.

"God will provide," Jack replied, smiling at her. "It's what I keep in my heart when I am in most in need of comfort. And he has provided for you." Cicely looked up to Jack, wondering what he meant. Edward of course, but...

Jack's face was not now looking at her; reflected in the splendour of the thousands of candles within the cathedral his nose stood prominent. He was looking past the cathedral and towards the piazza beyond. Then he let go her arm.

Leaving him, pulling up her dress so as not to fall on the cobbles before the respendent, papist cathedral, Cicely ran. Not away, this time; she had spent too much of her life running away. Just as she got there, she stumbled a little. A pair of arms caught her just in time.

Cicely looked up into his face as the man for whom she had crossed seas and oceans, continents and countries pulled her close. Stephen Maturin, her husband, her lover, her friend, was here, here on Christmas Eve to take her to worship. It was his church, so to speak. And now Christmas was perfect, nothing else mattered.


	6. The Christmas Present

The morning of Christmas Day had dawned bright and fair. Sun beamed down through the clouds and the day began like a fresh, June morning. Lying close to the sleeping Cicely, Stephen Maturin stroked his wife's short-cut hair, as he contemplated where he was right at that moment.

It had been a difficult journey, and one which would not end there. Already what he had put in place in London, both several months...years...before, and much more recently would bring to bear on them all. In the end, would it all be alright, in the end? So much had happened. And yet, as the day dawned of the birth of the Lord, nothing else seemed to matter. What would happen in the future could not be anticipated, just carefully managed. And at least Cicely would be safely in the care of her Uncle when that happened.

They had talked, on these matters, and others, once they had returned from the Cathedral. Cicely, her non-conformist, puritan Protestantism causing her to feel the place alien, had lessened her apprehension when she had stumbled towards him less than five hours before, and they had been patient enough to leave their long-awaited reconciliation until they had been aboard the Surprise; till they had held one another close, Stephen taking her close in his arms and never wanting them to be apart again.

He had told her what had happened when he had been in England, and how he had sent word to her via Jack so she would know some of his news, for there was much to tell. Stephen would have dearly liked to have told her himself that her hateful, tyrannical father was now dead, and her worries of their marital legitimacy were finally at an end, but knew, he had told her, that it was better for her to take time to consider all of the effects of this. Cicely was a free woman; her Uncle, to whom she had planned to reside, was now redundant in terms of her needing a guardian, and through their union it was now Stephen.

As he had anticipated, Cicely had waved aside any wish or wonder at the money her father's estate provided, and told him that it was her dearest wish that he spend it on his Society commission. Stephen had laughed, and laughed again when she had told him of her shopping expedition to purchase animals for him; the small monkeys being a particular bother to the crew as they had loaded them into the stores as they had nibbled through the twine and from their cage several had attempted a bid for freedom in the harbour before Chell had dived in and rounded them up.

More, much more they shared, keeping the early morning Christmas day company as the sun heralded the day and Cicely stirred as Stephen moved in the hammock-cot, and they continued their reunion. He had not brought anything with him, he had told her, to mark Christmas. Cicely told him that the news of their changed fortune was more than enough, and she listened in awe as Stephen then told her of his landing in England, in Portsmouth, where the French Admiral captured by Strachan's action was taken and imprisoned.

"I heard by way of two sailors accompanying me in the carriage on the way to Place House," Stephen added, as they sat together, the warmth of the sun beating through the knotholes of the cabin, the light narrowing into an intruding beam across the floor, that slowly worked its way towards the door.

"After a long conversation with Hamilton, he finally got to the point: that Wickham was now the most sought enemy of the realm." There was a pause, as Cicely looked at him, her husband, whose slender features betrayed a story he didn't want to share.

"But of course, you will no longer need to spy," she reminded him. "You can gain your commission at a much faster rate without that business distracting you." And she kept it at that, for Cicely knew she could push him into foreswearing his former occupation. But it was too soon to make him promise to her. Indeed, after what he'd done to her, with Fouche, with her role on "Victory", with making out Stephen was dead, there was a good part of Cicely that knew she would not hesistate to kill William Wickham herself.

"I did as you asked, and returned the money to Mrs Darwin, via her husband," Stephen went on, getting to his feet and leafing through the newly-transcribed notes that she had produced in his absence. "I was priviledged to be invited to a meeting with him, and several other local men of standing, one evening, at the home of an industrialist in Birmingham. It was very insightful, and has answered a good deal of questions that I had." He smiled over to Cicely, laying "Zoonomia" on his lap, before looking down at the page he had opened.

"I then gained further insight at a social gathering for an MP in Tamworth. Sophie Aubrey was a guest, and was so delighted to hear of your safety and happiness. I was pleased to be in the company of Dr. Darwin because several important people were there, important because they have contacts with people at the Royal Society." Stephen turned to look up at Cicely, placing the book on the table and frowning, before returning to his place next to her, taking up her hands.

"The MP, George Villiers' cousin was there, and...someone I once knew..." He looked across at her, still, waiting.

"...Diana Villiers, "Cicely's inner voice narrated bitterly, and then freed the words quietly to the air between them.

"Yes. She is Sophie Aubrey's cousin. We once had a...friendship, which is long past. Diana introduced me to Aime Bonpland, and naturalist, of as much fame as Alexander von Humboldt, whose work you have been transcribing. It was at that moment that I knew, I knew, Cicely, as much as the most devout man who worshipped last night at the Cathedral in that city - " he cast his arm towards the hull of "Surprise" past which the building stood, towards Sao paulo, " - that my place is here, with Jack, with you, to continue my work. It depressed me to know that he is so close to finishing his work, and how close in form that it is to my own. He wished me well, though I barely discussed my work - and how happy I was not to have - and said Humboldt would be honoured to know his work was still being used as a source of inspiration in other naturalists.

"It was at this point I made plans to return, then I was contacted at the Darwins' about your father's death. Benjamin Wigg took out a legal challenge, of course, but it was thrown out, on a written account by Lord Nelson."

Cicely said nothing – it was a lot to take in. But...no. The means didn't matter. How Stephen had gained his knowledge, through which person's influence...

...the only thing that mattered was Stephen's commission...with her father's money...

"...the marriage is disputed, so I hear..." The words, almost mocking her for the last few months, coming from a letter to Stephen from Diana Villiers. Well, hear different, Madam! Cicely's inner voice declared.

Stephen continued, oblivious to her inner dialogue, "I have kept the house on, with the servants, and some of your money. I borrowed a little for my passage here, and some of your money, just temporarily, to fund my commission, rather than having to spy to support me, as you suggested." Stephen smiled, taking her hand once more. "Once I gain the prize from accession to the Royal Society, it will be repaid to you, Cicely."

"It is yours, as our marriage is legitimate, as you told me," Cicely replied. For if you insist in repaying me, that says otherwise.

"And morally, it is yours."

"Then I give it to you as a gift, Stephen Maturin," Cicely insisted, "for the relief at least I have in knowing you have given up spying."

"Indeed, indeed, my darling!" Stephen exclaimed. "Even though I was so good at it, it is a relief to give up the game."

But not Wickham, Cicely replied silently, as they held one another, his warm body pressing close to her, still wearing as she had been last night, her wedding dress. No. You have not given up on William Wickham, of this I am certain.

"And, for the last few weeks, since landing in the Spanish Americas...where I've been...what I've seen...what I've achieved...!" Stephen got to his feet, his eyes alight with excitement and life; . "Where I was behind Humboldt, I am ahead...and it is you I have to thank!"

"But, what have I done?"

"Your money has helped me travel from the Darwins'...from England...to get where I need to be at the right time...Humboldt and Bonplan working in Paris now, with their work already assembling... but I was able to cross back to the Orinoco...and I think...oh Cicely, I could scarce believe it..."

From his shirt, Stephen held out a scrap of paper, wrinkled, a little water-damaged, placing it carefully on the pile of notes that Cicely had yet to transcribe.

"Something Humboldt missed - " he began, but then a loud knock interrupted them. Stephen crossed the planks, lifting the latch.

"Blakeney!" The not-so-young-any-more Lieutenant smiled broadly at him, looking past him, beaming at Cicely.

"Will!" Cicely got to her feet, moving to Stephen's side.

"The Captain wishes me to tell you that he is to minister shortly."

"Indeed," nodded Stephen. "Then we will be there."

"It's good to see you, Doctor," Will smiled again, his grin fixing on Cicely. "Captain Aubrey asked me to bring you this." Into Stephen's hand he placed a parcel. Cicely frowned as Will and Stephen exchanged glances.

"And it's good to see you, Will," agreed Stephen. "You will be at Christmas dinner tonight?"

"Yes, sir," Will nodded. " And it will be good to see Mrs Maturin in her new dress!"

"New dress?" asked Cicely, as Stephen closed the door on the reluctantly retreating Lieutenant.

"I spent my prize money too," as he placed the parcel in her hands. "Unlike my new species, which are causing havoc in the hold, or so I hear, you may have your gift now. "Merry Christmas, my darling."

88888888

As white as the sails above her, Cicely Maturin stood next to her husband opposite the Captain of the Surprise on the quarterdeck wearing her Christmas present. If the blue Chinese silk gown she had worn to marry was expensive, this must have been more. Pearls dotted the silk bodice; lace and silk made the straps. The white silk fabric, the most treasured in all of the Orient, for the natural colour was so rare to be yielded from the silkworms, flowed from her waist generously. She felt reborn that Christmas morning, as if forgiven for all past wrongdoing, and that it was from that moment on she could begin again.

"...Mary, her cousin Elizabeth, who was also with child..."

Below them, on the main deck, the men of the Surprise, as one, listened diligently to the mass that was being spoken, a passage read a passage from St. Luke's Gospel. An ecumenical service, of course, for Jack could hardly be expected to cater for every individual denomination of Christianity. He had, however, been available at dawn to hear the papists' confessions, as was the custom on Christmas mornings and, as the service drew to a close, finished by announcing that all men were entitled to double rum rations in recognition of their part in the capture of the four rogue "Trafalgar" ships, and that the afternoon hours were their own.

A cheer arose below them as Jack stood down his officers, too, before inviting her and Stephen to his cabin to partake in their company that Christmas afternoon.

"You look beautiful, my dear," smiled Jack who, in his new uniform, took her hand as they stepped into his cabin a few hours later. "And may I say Stephen, what a timely, and somewhat surprising return you made last night? I wasn't expecting you until this evening."

"No, indeed," agreed Stephen, chancing a glance at Cicely. "I had a stroke of fortune in my commission."

"Indeed?" enquired Jack, as he poured out sherry for them both, before offering Cicely milk, a veritable luxury, courtesy of Sao Paulo.

"The fortune being...my new fortune. Cicely's father died, as I told you, and I took the liberty in borrowing some in order to fund my passage south. Now, of course, you know that I met with Alexander von Humboldt when I was in England?"

"I did indeed, agreed Jack, drawing up his chair, his eyes moving for a second over to Cicely, who returned the glance with a nod. "Sophie did mention it to me in her last letter."

"It enabled me to gain passage to Cumana on a merchant ship bound for the Indies, but first to New Spain, in order to trade in Jesuit's bark. It was exactly where I needed to be.

"I then chanced upon a meeting with a noble, on the first day of landing at the port, by the name of Simon Bolivar. The man was in a bind; he appeared to have been waiting in an inn for company which never arrived and I struck up a conversation, for I myself was now in the country where Humboldt and Bonplan had worked; where the man had adventured and studied, and I imparted my wonder at the country's natural world.

"In turn, Bolivar engaged me in conversation of his time in Europe, and a stroke of fortune then arose: he had discussed the very thing, the natural wonders of New Spain with Humboldt himself, in Paris! It transpired that Bonplan had left some of Humboldt's original work at the home of a Signor Gamat, in Cumana itself, with whom he stayed before travelling the Orinoco with several freed slaves as guides. He noted within the species of monkey and ape, and attempted to fix their genus. He is absent of these, and this has delayed his work." He sipped his sherry, as Jack placed his glass upon the oak.

"It is a pity that they cannot be found," the Captain pondered. Cicely's mouth turned into a grin. Of course! Bolivar must have guided Stephen to their very spot!

"As we speak, they are in my very possession," Stephen replied, returning Cicely's look of happiness at his progress.

"That is indeed a singular thing - Bolivar, I know, is a man of money and status. May I enquire as to what caused such a revelation?"

"He is also a known rebel amongst the established government in New Spain," Stephen replied. "And as such, it may not be prudent to reveal here, Jack, even to you. However, I am also a man of status in Catalonia, a known opponent to the Castilianisation of Catalonia - " the pause was sudden and he broke off, changing th subject.

"And, of late, a man of money," he added. "We had many things to discuss that were mutually beneficial. It is my beloved wife's inheritance that made the journey at such a speed possible - " Stephen turned, taking up Cicely's hand in his, "- and her connections – and yours – in political circles, which allowed me to ask the correct questions. If ever Humboldt were to be aware of what I now know, of the river in which it took him over a year to document, that had given me a head start over him, why, he would be furious, to say the least!"

But Jack now had a look in his eye that Cicely knew meant that something had occurred to him that required his preoccupation. His gaze took in the wooden planking, the window, and then the harbour, full of rowing boats and people milling about on the quayside.

"Spain should never have sided with Bonapate; he will never leave that country be in his quest for domination, whatever he has made the King believe. He should have relocated, like Portugal has." He gave Stephen a steely look, then picked up the sherry bottle, his face returning to its usual joviality and asked, "more wine?"

Before either of them could reply, a knock came.

"Come!" A red-faced William Mowett peered cautiously round the door.

"I have come to inform you that several boats have left the "Indefatigable", Sir. To let you know, sir!" he panted. Clearly the midshipmen on duty were alert to the traffic in the harbour and the dependable Mowett had known the Admiral was to arrive that evening.

"Does it bear the flag of the Admiralty?"

"No, sir. But if the Admiral is early, I'll be sure to let you know."

"A little premature, Mowett, but I thank you for your conscientiousness."

As Mowett was about to close the door, Lieutenant Blakeney appeared in the gap.

"If you please sir," he said, as he took the door's weight against his arm, looking past Jack and at Stephen. "I should like to ask, sir, if I may indulge in your wife's company? Only, the men have had trouble with some of the apes and also, seeing as it is Christmas, sir." He held out a small packet to Stephen, his eyes trailing from the doctor to Cicely.

"I have a small gift for you, sir."

"Indeed? That is most kind, Blakeney, most kind. May I open it now?" Will Blakeney inclined his head, and Stephen tore off the brown wrapping.

"It's a land-compass, sir," he explained. "A new device, something I got in Portsmouth before we left the South Coast. A man called - "

" - Harrison," nodded Stephen, his eyes wide. "Indeed, yes, indeed." He looked at Jack.

"Indeed. Harrison's chronometer! But, of course, the man died penniless. He never could convince the Navy that it was good enough."

"Never convince them?" asked Stephen. "By all accounts the man was used most ill, when his invention – one of which hangs on the deck out there, works so precisely that it can even record a change in tide."

Sensing a hot disagreement brewing between the two men – Jack's distaste for his beloved Service would never go unchallenged - Cicely looked at Blakeney, willing him to say something.

"May I speak to Cicely? Mrs Maturin, I mean, sir?"

Stephen and Jack exchanged glances, both resigned to their own points of view. Cicely got to her feet, her white dress illuminating the afternoon sun through Jack's cabin window.

"Certainly," she nodded, looking at Stephen for agreement, who glanced at Jack. The two friends had had little time together since he had returned. It would be good to give it to them.

"Certainly, my dear," he agreed. "And my thanks, Lieutenant for your thoughtful gift.

On the deck, the sight was glorious. The harbour shone like a pale sapphire, its edges trimmed with quayside. People were still milling about, getting in and out of the boats that were mooring; loading and unloading. Quite a few people seemed to be heading to the Cathedral again. A busy Christmas afternoon.

It turned out that the main reason that Blakeney wanted Cicely was because of the animals. They had run amok in the mid-deck when Harris and Chell had attempted to feed them, and some had escaped. At least two had made it to daylight and thrown themselves overboard in a bid for freedom.

"Are they animals which are particularly important to the Doctor?" asked Blakeney, as he showed her down to the gunnery. "If they are, then I can see to it that they are recaptured. Or replaced?" He looked earnestly at Cicely, the same expression he had worn nearly two years before when he had discovered she was not as she appeared to be.

"The men found them amusing this morning, he added, as a cacophany of squawks and grunts acknowledged Cicely and Will Blakeney's arrival. Cicely looked, inspecting the specimens that remained.

"I don't know; I don't think so," Cicely replied, nodding towards Blakeney. "Only the doctor could say, and he has yet to see them properly." She smiled at Blakeney, and smiled a little more when she took in his worried expression. "It's OK, Will," she added.

"I have something or you, Cicely," Blakeney said, when they were back on the main deck. "I hope that, now you are properly married, you don't mind me calling you by your first name?" Cicely patted his hand. The boy was like a younger brother to her; despite the rules of the Service, she didn't mind in the slightest.

"I have nothing or you," she replied, shaking her head, sadly. "I spent my prize money on the apes and monkeys."

"It's OK, Cicely. I never expected you to get me anything. And the thought of the doctor getting the specimens he needs makes me happy."

"Hold on," laughed Cicely, her short hair bobbing about her ears in the breeze, "he's not seen them yet!" She instantly regretted saying that, however, when Blakeney's face changed into an expression of confusion.

"Never mind," she said, and smiled again, nodding as Captain Howard, his unsteady form implying he had found an inn open on Christmas Day and indulged a little, saluted Cicely, and grinned.

"I have this for you, Cicely," said Blakeney. Like Stephen's chronometer, it was wrapped in brown paper, much smaller, however.

"It's not a lot. But I liked it. I...I was going to send it to my sister, but she has a lot of brooches. Do you like it?" He leaned in earnestly to catch her words. Cicely pulled at the paper, which unravelled to reveal a small brooch that seemed to be made of a strange, heavy, silvery material, soft to the touch, which he had got from a pedlar, but its filigree pattern made it seem pretty and he wanted her to have it.

Cicely was touched. She pulled Blakeney closer for a hug, despite being it being Christmas Day and that they had shared an intimate moment in broad daylight on the main deck. No-one was around that seemed to notice, even less, care. It was so kind of the lad. She wanted very little in the way of gifts; she had all she could want. That God had heard her silent prayers for her husband to be reunited with her was evidence enough that her faith was strong enough for God to reward her.

And yet here was a young lad, limited in female companionship, and he had thought to give her such a charming gift. Cicely realised the young lieutenant was waiting for her to say something.

"Yes, Will," she replied, holding the brooch up to the light. "I really do like it. It shines so beautifully. And what metal!"

"I don't know," Will replied, interpreting her statement as a question. "A metal from Brazil. It seems to change colour in the light. And it's heavy as gold."

"Strange," replied Cicely, as she held it up to let the sun reflect off it. "It really does. Thank you for your kindness, Will."

Just as she was about to make her way back to Jack's cabin however, the first bell of the dog watch rang clear, and a scuttling from the midshipman to the deckhand followed, before the latter hurried to Mowett, who in turn raced across the mid-deck, and down towards Jack's cabin. She followed the man to the door, and heard him declare, "the Admiral's boat is launched, sir..." followed by, "...now, sir! He'll be piped aboard this very minute!"

Will and Cicely looked at one another before hurrying themselves to the gang-plank. Anchored as they were somewhat away from the quay, any visitors to "Surprise" first had to climb aboard on the ropes.

Cicely looked down to see the familiar face of the Admiral who saved her life in the back streets of Sao Paulo. Beside him, in their boat, was a woman, presumably, Mrs Pellew.

From their boat a crewman boarded, speaking swiftly to Nagel and Pizzy – now a deck-hand – and pointing wildly towards Admiral Pellew and his wife. Minutes later a crate was being lowered, fixed round one of the overhead beams. Cicely and Will watched as the crate began to lower down over the side of the ship. Cicely leaned further over and watched as it landed in the boat next to Mrs Pellew.

After a brief exchange of words and animated gestures between two, Cicely watched in amazement as Mrs Pellew, clearly middle-aged and a little plump, sat on the box, holding tightly to the ropes on either side as Chell and Symons heaved on it, in the same way she had done when she had left the ship and returned to it.

Even more surprising was that Admiral Pellew did not wait for the crate to be removed. Instead, accompanied by some cheering and shouting from the hands from both crews, the Admiral had taken the sailors' route, shinning with ease up the ropes.

A cheer erupted from the crew of "Indefatigable", who were handling their own craft. As Mrs Pellew landed safely on the deck with a small "thump", her husband pulled himself over the deck, pushing away offers of help.

As he saw Cicely's astonished face, the Admiral nodded, his expression self-assured as the Marine guard piped him aboard. Cicely then saw Jack and Stephen's faces just over her shoulder. Stephen saw that she had seen him and took several steps over to her, taking her by the arm. Pellew looked them both over, with interest.

"Good afternoon, Sir," intoned Jack, saluting. The men about him, all, in fact except Stephen and Cicely, saluted the Admiral.

"It's an honour and a privilege to welcome you both aboard!"

"Indeed, Captain Aubrey. And an honour and privilege to be aboard. Christmas tidings to one, and all!"

88888888


	7. Christmas Evening

A grumbling Preserved Killick cleared the table from the officers' mess before returning with dessert – cakes procured from Sao Paulo, and also brought sherry and wine.

That afternoon, earlier than Jack had expected, and using the lines or the hoist, several of the captains had arrived on "Surprise", at the invitation of Admiral Pellew.

Cicely looked at the officers around the table now, as they all tucked into dessert, all come because of Pellew. The Admiral had kissed her lightly as dinner began, regaling the company with their meeting and trusting that the animals obtained in Sao Paulo market were what the doctor needed. Stephen told him they were more than enough, enough to spend their journey around the Horn analysing and studying.

John Howard had returned, he told the men, to find Cicely but, when he could not, awaited the "Surprise's" boats and arrested three men for lewd, drunken behaviour. They had pressed their suit to the daughter of one of the city's landladies and the discussion had spilled out onto the street.

"To save further embarrassment to the Service I arrested them and let them regain their senses before informing respective captains." Neither were from Captain Aubrey's number, but Pengelly of "Honourable" and Pullings – their very own Lieutenant Pullings of old – currently captain of "Emilia" both claimed them as their own and had duly imprisoned them in the hold on the ropes, until that morning.

""Honourable" was at the Siege of Alexandria," observed Aubrey, distributing wine as the captains and officers, sated by good and hearty food, "she was a toop."

"Indeed she was!" declared Captain Pengelly, raising his glass. "We have had her refitted and remodelled as a short frigate. She sails with far greater efficiency now."

Indefatigable's sailing master had been invited, and had just finished a reminiscence of serving with Prince William Henry; of how the prince was to be kidnapped and held for ransom in America. Sailing master Perry, of "Halcyon", a man older than Mr. Allen, had then turned the conversation to the revolutionary war, with the Surprise's sailing master discussing the numbers of British soldiers rescued from the sea when the Americans had turned, fighting them back to the beach in Massachusetts and into the waves. In 1786 he had been stationed in West Indies under Nelson – they had been good friends – and then in 1788, captaincy of HMS Andromeda rear admral, an then to HMS Valiant as captain, before ceased responsibility roles in 1790.

"I do declare, what a remarkable life you have had, sir!" Pengelly toasted Perry deferentially. "I had a sailing master with me departed at "New York" who served with Prince William Henry." He looked about his peers. " There has long been strong rumour, especially of late with voice given to alliance with Napoleon, that the President, Benjamin Franklin himself, has devised it."

"Tosh, I say!" laughed the Admiral. "Should we be telling tales of our battles and - "he turned to Mrs Pellew, taking up her hand and kissing it, smiled heartily, " - our wives and sweethearts!"

"...may they never meet..." echoed the room automatically, invoking the Service's unofficial reply to such a toast.

Mrs Pellew smiled at Cicely, obviously pleased to be in her husband's company, her heart soft with joy. All the same, there were better toasts to her name, but by the look on the Admiral's wife's face, she didn't care. Cicely recognised her contentedness: she had her Stephen. But, by the look on his face there seemed to be something that sat ill with him, that hadn't at the start of Christmas dinner.

"Is it true you saved all hands of a merchant ship on the way here, Lieu- _Captain_ Pullings?" Jack swigged his sherry as he replaced his spoon into his bowl. The cake, coloured with saffron and flavoured with caraway seed, had been fine indeed.

"Yes, sir," replied James Pullings, his intense eyes sparkling at the compliment. "It seemed the captain had become ill, and the crew unable to handle their tub. They got into difficulties in the Forties and we helped bring her to harbour here. The captain, it seemed, ignored the signs of the squalls, but could not bring himself to admit fault. How they'll ever get to the Cape of Good Hope I still have no idea, but their captain intends it."

"Ha! How, indeed! A whole continent away!" Jack slapped his leg, before composing himself a little. Such behaviour would be acceptable amongst the "Surprise" officers, but perhaps a little too loose for Christmas afternoon with others of his rank – and one far senior.

"A good cake, Captain," commented Captain Hall, nodding at his empty dish. "Will you thank your messman?"

"Indeed I will, though he will complain heartily," replied Jack. "He does not like to..."

"...cook with anything new?" suggested Hall.

"...cook with anything... _unfamiliar,_ " corrected Jack, grinning mirthfully. "He did the best with the main."

Indeed, thought Cicely, as she recalled their dinner just now. There had been roast bird at the table: not goose, for it looked too small, partidge perhaps, or grouse. These had been salted, and were offcuts; little that could be found at a market, Jack had declared over the meal, was fit for Christmas, and remarked that had he not, perhaps other items bought at market would have had to have sufficed.

"You avoided the temptation to serve up the good Doctor's Christmas gift?" Admiral Pellew had remarked, speaking of the few larger birds Cicely had procured, along with the apes and now, the whole company were laughing along with Jack.

"I understand you have been in England of late, Doctor?" Captain Pengelly looked at Stephen, his rounded featues appearing deep-set in his face, appearing to have a sharper edge to them as he queried. "We heard news of Austerlitz. A terrible, terrible blow, especially after the glory at Trafalgar. Pray, could you avail us of details of the most dreadful attack?"

The room was quiet now. Glasses were poised, still, or unmoving on the table. All were set, ready to hear what Stephen had to say. Some had not heard the news, or even the name of the battle, neither through Admiralty orders or local news. Stephen sighed deeply. Cicely rested her hand lightly on his.

"Indeed. Bonaparte has won a victory there, and opened the door of the land in the East where the sea in the West has proved unpenetrable. They have soundly defeated the Austrians and the Russians had to retreat, and regroup. So many men have been lost."

The east...

...that direction rang a bell in Cicely's mind. Something about Stephen's visit to London, and the east...

"And Humboldt? Isn't he himself in London?" Pellew smiled at Stephen as he spoke the name of the man whose work had turned out of late to be the key to his academic future.

"Indeed, but it's his legacy which is the most important to me, Admiral," Stephen replied, smiling. "He was of late in the company of Simon Bolivar."

"The revolutionary?"

"Some say so." He looked across to Jack, to whom he had imparted the very same information that afternoon. "The Spaniards loyal to the Castilian crown are not at all pleased by the civil unrest with the creoles and the freed black slaves, as well as the indigeous indians. Had it not been for him, or indeed Alexander von Humboldt, not my darling wife Cicely, on whose behalf I attended London, I would not have gained an advantage that has...that has..." he looked across to Cicely, his face one of contentment now, and satisfaction "...that has turned the tide on my work. All would have been nought, and my years of work wasted."

Ciclely felt herself redden as Stephen drew up her hand and kissed it: such an outpouring was not in her husband's usual manner. Yet the manners of a lady within her were enough for her to take it with grace, and she thanked her husband for his kind words.

"A toast!" Jack's words brought Cicely's contemplations to the present. He refilled glasses, the dark red liquid glinting in the tallow candle-light. "To those who are with us, who can touch us and make us whole."

"Indeed!" The officers, Cicely and Mrs Pellew raised their glasses to the floor of the deck above.

"To those from whom we are apart, who live in our hearts and in our minds."

"Indeed!"

"And to past victories – may God permit them to be repeated!"

"Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!"

Jack lowered his glass, still standing. All eyes were on him, for he seemed not to be finished.

"Indeed, it is a bad move, in Spain, to have neglected Spanish Grenada, and the whole of the South Americas," commented Admiral Pellew, fixing his eyes on Aubrey. "Yet the Portuguese have all but relocated to Buenos Aires."

"And this takes me to our mission." Jack held the floor again, and it would seem to Cicely that the Captain had been given permission to speak freely. Pellew raised an eyebrow, and a glass.

"It is not a coincidence that I meet with Admiral Pellew today. The good Admiral has his papers which take him East, and to India. Mine also coincide. As the good doctor so aptly put - " he turned his face to him, glancing too at Cecilia, " whose recounting of the dreadful action in Europe, Bonaparte has been forced to look East for Imperial prospcts. The coincidence for us is that I am to support the Admiral in the East as he travels to India."

"And yourself, Mrs Maturin?" Mrs Pellew leaned towards Cicely, her rows of pearls dangling like an inverted rainbow, and she smiled warmly. "My husband tells me you have family in Indonesia? And you have of late travelled with Captain Aubrey, as you are with your husband. Pray tell me, where did you meet?"

"Aboard the ship, Madam," replied Cicely. "Captain Aubrey was kind enough to offer me shelter under the protection of His Majesty's Royal Navy." A very abridged aversion, and she tried not to catch the expressions of anyone – Stephen; Jack; Will Blakeney – who knew the details, for she would be sure their expression would be easy to detect.

"And will you remain aboard?"

"Indeed Madam," smiled Cicely, "I have been given leave to do so by the Lord Admiral himself. But no, instead I travel West too; my uncle owns land, not in Indonesia, but Sarawak, on the Carteret Islands and has made a deal of money there. He has invited me to join him. This suits all our needs," she added, laying down her glass, feeling the desperate panic of a few days before Stephen had returned, of her time being precious and running out as they journeyed there. Stephen took her hand again, and she looked him, smiling with gratitude that he was now with her.

"My husband's work takes him into the Pacific also, with both intricate knowledge and financial support. So, I suppose, Bonaparte's needs, and our response to them have worked in everyone's favour!"

"And the animals?" Edward Pellew's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. Cicely looked a little worried. But perhaps he would have told her yesterday if he hadn't permitted them.

"We will abide them with good grace," Jack Aubrey replied graciously.

"And they will be of use, Dr Maturin?" inquired Mrs Pellew further, her eyes resting now upon Stephen.

"Inded so. I hope to confirm, and refute, many conjectures made about the natural world in the Americas. My business in England, amongst other things, put me in touch with Humboldt, and it is now clear that I must accelerate my work in order to have a viable thesis. " Cicely lookd at him, his face a little taut at the revelation. This seemed wrong again. Stephen hardly ever voiced detail, even less so in the company of virtual strangers.

"Humboldt detailed all of the Americas, Admiral. His maps were used in assessing the accuracy of the land division that Bonaparte instigated, the Louisiana Purchase, in order to fund the wars that Europe now finds itself. Bolivar has the ambition to unite the Southern Americas into one country, as Washington did in the Independence Wars."

"I feel there is doubt about the Northern Americans of late," interjected Pellew, "hence their plausible kidnap plot of Prince William Henry. They are not as united as they may seem. Canada has been threatened from the East. I fear we have not quite finished with the Northern Americas quite yet while there is a very real threat to Canada from its southern border."

The talk continued, politics to naval strategy. Bonaparte to the Prince Regent. HMS Aquilon on the Glorious First of June, 1794 and how, while it was a British victory, a French convoy had got through. The bouncing cannon that thad been of good fortune and turned the Battle of the Nile to the British. The desperate need of accurate maps and naval charts. Stephen had commented that it was in pursuit of accurate mapping that his father had succumbed to injuries, which had probably been the beginning of the end of his career.

It was John Howard who asked her to step outside, wondering whether Cicely would like to feel the summer air on Christmas night, an experience he most certainly would like to experience. They were joined by Mrs Pellew, as the intensity of political debate had swung towards Ireland, beginning with Jack's story of a Francis Beaufort, of Meath, who was trying to improve the measurement of wind speed.

"..I wish him luck, but I fear his efforts will come to nothing," Cicely heard Jack say as they closed the door on the officer's mess.

"I sensed that post-prandial discussions were weighing heavily, Mrs Maturin." John Howard approached the edge of the ship, leaning firmly against the wood. The deck, which was still light of crew, celebrating at liberty Christmas night, did indeed feel less repressive than the gentlemen discussing politics and war, into which the conversations had developed.

"You were saying, Mrs Maturin, how the good Captain had been instrumental in your protection," Mrs Pellew approached, and joined them, keen to press her as to the details of her presence aboard. Shrewd, thought Cicely, as she assessed the woman, her firm, but agile frame; her determined, yet pleasant face. At the woman's demeanour, Cicely felt that she did not mind revealing some of the finer details. "How did you come to be aboard?"

"I fancy you know how," Cicley guessed, suddenly feeling as enclosed as the post-dinner talks had indeed been making her feel.

"Well, Edward did say you had an unusual story," replied Mrs Pellew. And so, right at that moment, Cicely told her, much to the woman's – and John Howard's astonishment. Most astonished of all, however, was Cicely herself.

"My word, young lady!" Mrs Pellew's mouth was open in shock, and also, Cicely noticed, a kind of admiration. "I am in awe at your dare! To travel half way around the world would be astonishing enough," she raised her arms in exclamation. "And then to flee your guardianship and arrive back here - "

" - in a round-about way," Cicely nodded. She hadn't given too much away to the woman, though she was clearly familiar with the take surrounding Jack's court-martial.

"Tell me, do you and the doctor have plans for a family, now that you are both wed? Perhaps when you get to the Carteret Islands? To your Uncle?" Ms Pellew smiled, encouragingly.

Cicely felt herself stop, the swell of the ship under her legs all that her conscious mind was registering. She was proud of her presence aboard "Surprise" with Jack, and Stephen, with their goal being the Pacific. However she had not been prepared for this question and it took her aback.

"I have been injured of late..." Cicely felt her mouth speak. "However..." she turned her head back to the cabin, a soft, balmy breeze tickling her cheek, and she recalled the time, in Jack's quarters...when the baby came too soon...

This time...she hadn't had the same emotion of it as usual, only the sound, that of the door creaking open, and that of the sea, and the recollection at the terrible memory...

Cicely was aware of both Mrs Pellew and John Howard staring at her, and she forced her mind back to the present, and a suitable reply.

"I dare say that in time, nature will take its course and God will bless us. The Carteret Islands would be a good place to raise a child. Do you have children, Mrs Pellew?"

This time, it was the Admiral's wife who looked back awkwardly.

"We have not been so fortunate. Edward...he has been away on campaigns most of our married life. Nature can only take its course within limits," she added, this time breaking into a warm smile. "As my husband works, I indulge in society, on his behalf."

"Indeed, and has your acquaintance been held in Bath?" John Howard stepped nearer Cicely, engaging Lady Pellew in conversation.

"Not of late – I have of late been in the Midlands. Do you have interest in Bath?" Captain Howard held his arm for Mrs Pellew, who nodded, glancing back to Cicely, smiling as they began to walk towards the mizzen. Cicely felt, for the second time in twenty four hours, gratitude for the marines captain's consideration of her feelings, turning herself towards the sea again, and to the swell of people on the wharfs.

Cicely wondered what it would be like, for a moment, to be a Papist; they had attended mass with Catholics the previous night, when Cicely had felt so uncomfortable, almost worse than having not attended a Christmas service at all. They believed the same, after all, that Christ was their redeemer in Heaven. And yet...what was it that Wesley advocated? Her mother had explained it once to Cicely, on a walk into the woods, where the bluebells grew. Conscience of the mind. To do unto others as they would do to you. Sacrifice your time on Earth for eternal life with God. Not worship trinkets and objects. That was no better than the pagans, who believed stones would heal, and that the sun would not rise if they didn't lay out their armour in a certain pattern.

"...and I must beg your forgiveness, Captain..." Cicely's mind registered the voice of Mrs Pellew as it was endeavouring to excuse her from John Howard's escort. "I, oh, I remember now, that I was of a mind to speak to Mrs Maturin on a matter of mutual interest..."

Cicely felt her heart sink in her chest. She turned to Mrs Pellew, smiling kindly, taking in Captain Howard's apologetic expression.

"I fancy some of my acquaintances attended a social event to which the doctor visited, Mrs Maturin? His keenness in acquiring information was intense," she added, as Cicely nodded inwardly. How like Stephen, to be relentess in obtaing what he needed, thought Cicely. But there was worse to come, for the social event to which the Admiral's wife was referring was none other than the social gathering at Tamworth, in the Midlands, for George Villiers."

"...however there is a particular man – Jew – by the name of George Canning..." Mrs Pellew went on, oblivious to the weight her words were having on Cicely. "My cousin was also invited, and mentioned to me you good husband's presence." Cicely nodded, hoping the older woman would take the hint and end the conversation because of it. Unfortunately, her silence seemed to be interpreted as an invitation to continue.

"There has been the talk of society...how Canning has risen up remarkably quickly into politics; what has he done to race up the ranks? He has interests around Liverpool, so I am given to understand." She flapped at her face with one hand to cool it. Cicely was in need of cooling down, but for another reason. She knew, of course, whose company Stephen had kept at that dinner, and her face and neck felt as if her emotion was burning through her skin.

"He and George Villiers entered Parliament together, and by the looks of it both rose quickly. Villiers was the one destined for greatness in all things political; now he is the MP in Tamworth, a born diplomat. Canning himself, respectfully...well, of course, it is the Jewish way, to take the opportunities without respecting the circumstances, do you not find? Oh, but my dear, am I boring you? You look quite pale."

"Tell me a little of this Mr Villiers. Are you acquainted with him personally?" Something akin to a clamp was squeezing Cicely's stomach now; the humid alehouse made her feel clammy and cold at the same time. Villiers. That was a name buried deep in her brain, which Cicely had bade never to be thought again, in order to be a true wife. It had come as a shock, and an unwelcome one at that.

"No," she replied. "Not directly. Diana, his cousin, knew my wife's sister well and we have attended several functions. The woman is bereft of all fortune, for her husband died out in India – Captain in the army, but with little fortune."

"Diana Villiers?"

"Diana Villiers," Cicely echoed, quite without intent.

"You know Mrs Villiers yourself, Mrs Maturin?" Cicely's mouth was dry. "Change the subject!" her brain was screaming.

"Not...exactly. But her name is...familiar..."

"I feel rather sorry for the woman;" continued Mrs Pellew, oblivious to Cicely's discomfort. "I have met her once or twice: beautiful, of course, but she knows it, and that to me is a mask of ugliness. Rumour had it her husband beat her. She lasted a pauper's life in the company of some of her cousins – the wife of Captain Aubrey, I believe?" She raised his eyebrows as if to enquire, but she said nothing, hoping to show ignorance. And considering what she had seen in Diana Villiers' letter to Stephen, Cicely felt she wanted to be next in line.

"However she is mistress to Canning now, so my cousin Hebe, Mrs Gardiner-Ewers is given to understand."

And then Cicely felt the prickling of emotion behind the sinuses in her nose, eyes bristling with tears at the shame that her anger allowed her to be overcome by the past, and what could be argued was a misunderstanding. She had vowed to honour her marriage with by thinking the best and making no judgments. And here she was now, a part of her own callous weakness on display to her consciousness that was equally as repugnant. Would she hit the woman, given a chance?

In any case...

"...the marriage is disputed, or so I hear..." Diana Villiers had written these words in a private letter to Stephen. An internal smirk of triumph crossed through her very being; if the woman were of a mind to hear now she would find that her understanding was now incorrect. It wasn't as if she didn't trust him – Cicely had spent time when Stephen was in England thinking about the letter and his role in proceedings. No written evidence had supported the woman's claims, and then Stephen had promised her faithfully that Diana was out of his life for good.

...he could have married the woman, after all, if he'd a mind to. And he had instead chosen Cicely.

But then, it wasn't her husband Stephen doubted, it was more the arrogant tone. Diana Villiers made her rise and feel defensive.

Maybe it was Fouche, then, the French spymaster, who had taken the libery of sharring the fact that Stephen had shared such intimate details with her. Despite the evening's breeze that was blowing from the quay, Cicely was feeling faint, and hot again.

"Are you quite all right, my dear?" Cicely realised the woman was looking at her curiously. "May I confide, Mrs Maturin, my opinion in your great fortune."

"...m...my fortune...?" What did this woman know of that?

"You are fortunate," Mrs Pellew rephrased, in that you have the courage of your convictions, and not be defined by your class or position in society. I can see why he loves you."

Cicely looked back at the woman in amazement, her face one of accurate insight to Cicely's muteness. Well, partially right. Technically, Mrs Pellew outranked her socially, but Cicely had foregone society, so this measure was irrelevant. And yet the woman perceived far more than her ebullient nature conveyed.

"Diana Villiers is, my dear, beautiful, graceful, charming and witty. And clearly quite vain and self-centred. But, as I say, I pity her prevous match. That she may have charmed your husband before you met him is the past, Cicely," she added, looking towards the cabin door, which had opened. Admiral Pellew stepped out into the balmy, summer's air, Mrs Pellew blushed like a debutante as her husband smiled at her.

"This is the present. You are with the person you adore, and believe me when I say, if you know love to be true this will remain with you for the rest of your days." She watched Edward Pellew cross the bleached, pristine boards, holding out his hand towards his wife.

"Oh, to be young again and to have adventues, Mrs Maturin. Please feel free to call on me any time, Mrs Maturin. I am no stranger to the unconventional; I find society life very limiting and hypocritical.

Admiral Pellew bowed his head to Cicely, as Mrs Pellew took his hand.

"May I invite you back to the table, Mrs Pellew?" The Admiral looked into his wife's adoring face as Captain Howard, who had disappeared back into Jack's quarters, reappeared and approached them, proffering Cicely's hand too.

"Your husband is seeking your company for the remainder of the meal. And a special toast to the Captain on his Post Captaincy."

As they seated themselves back around the table, having caught the tail end of a potential money-making scheme, that of a guano company who had set up on the rocks off Chile, selling bird excrement as fertiliser, or a soil neutraliser.

Their conversation faded, as Cicely stood by Stephen – all were on their feet as Admiral Pellew congratulated Jack on his promotion and his action with Strachan in the Bay of Biscay.

"To Captain Aubrey! May your past successes be the path to future ones! With me! In the Orient! Future success!"

"Future success!" echoed the company, and for once, in honour of her ex-captain and good friend, Cicely overlooked her beliefs, sipping heartily at the sherry, to praise him.

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In their cabin that evening, once the company had departed, all was quiet, unsually so.

The Pellews had wished both of them a good night and a Merry Christmas and luck, to both her venture to the Carteret Islands, and for Stephen's commission. Howard had taken her hand, and apologised again for losing her the previous day, before recounting Christmases past aboard "Surprise". Then Captain Aubrey had bidden her goodnight.

"My orders are favouable and, with the Admiral's help, I should make Admiral of the Blue before next Christmas. It is not a coincidence that his ship and my ship met here, shall we say."

No indeed. Nothing in the service was a coincidence, and if it was down to luck, then God had willed it.

"Goodnight, Cicely," finished Jack, beaming heartly from the merriment and the rum, before bending to kiss her on the cheek. "Merry Christmas," he added, making way for the second time in twenty four hours for his friend to take his former mizzenlad's hand.

However, before he could do so, one of the ship's Middies approached Stephen, a little worse for wear, and nursing his left hand.

"If you please, Doctor," Midshipman Exe stammered, "from the lines," he added, thrusting it in Stephen's direction. But Stephen Maturin was not deterred and, not taking his eyes from Cicely replied, "is it going to fall off from your wrist by the morning, man?" before escorting Cicely to their cabin.

As Stephen undressed to his undergarments, Cicely had been about to say that Stephen should not deny the man treatment on her account, but thought better of it. He was intent on leaving the entertainment early, unlike him to shun time with Jack, unless there was a large section of work that needed his utmost attention.

"Do you like your animals, Stephen?"

"Very much so, my darling. They are exactly, exactly what I need to continue my work," he added, throwing the gown he had bought for her that Christmas Day into the corner of their cabin and drawing her close, in her underwear, his hands playing in her short hair. Suddenly he withdrew from her, his face cold.

Cicely said nothing, waiting. After a moment, Stephen began to talk to her, but his words sounded hollow, and cold.

"I feel I owe you an explanation," he began. Cicely felt herself shiver, despite the warm summer air.

"Sit, sit by me," he added, as he lowered himself into his hammock and, obediently, she did. Was this it? The time he told Cicely of her, Diana Villiers? Was her marriage to the man she so passionately adored, admired and loved going to be over before it had barely begun?

"I mentioned to you of a man named Bonplan?" Cicely murmured a "yes."

"He was attending the gathering as a guest of the MP...Villiers, in Tamworth, and he remembered me for, when I was in Paris, having left "Surprise" after you had gone to live with Sophie Aubrey I chanced upon a meeting von Humboldt had with a man of South American origin, someone who is, by dint of political leaning, and an advocate of Bonaparte."

"It is von Humboldt's travels which brought me back here, advanced my position, as you know." Stephen looked across to his desk, where Cicely knew his notes to be, that he had acquired in New Spain.

"Bolivar..." Cicely murmured, and she felt Stephen turn towards her in the half-light.

"Indeed, my darling. Von Humboldt met the man before Napoleon's accession to Emperor, and admired the nature of his politics as regards to royalty. Von Humboldt, in turn, carried the message with him, so to speak, to the South Americas. Bonaparte, via Humboldt has now given Bolivar an opportunity he could never have dreamed of. Spain and Portugal are now governed by Bonaparte; the Portuguese have relocated down to Brazil. Which means that Venezuela and Grand are prime to overthow Spain due to this weakness.

"There's to be a revoution?"

"There already has been several." Stephen's eyes were glimmering in the setting sun's weak rays, that had found the correct angle in which to reflect off the highly polished As such, several groups of fighting men have been in need of a medically trained man. One such was Bolivar himself. He traded his health for information left behind by von Humbolt, something the Prussian didn't think he needed. It is the linchpin for my whole thesis; without it, I could be thinking years before it's completed." Cicely felt him sigh next to her, as if getting something off his chest.

"So, it was at Villiers's party I realised he knew that what he had left with Bolivar would be what he needed to complete his thesis. I did not let on, and left the company of the Darwins the next day. I was so utterly depressed! To think what the man has already achieved! His work that you are combing through, he has inferred plants on both sides of North and South America, and their equivalent torrid and temperate zones, connections of land somehow.

"I consider him a man of my own thinking, Cicely, and he has classical thinkers in his social circle – Goethe, Schiller, a skilled generalist, and here I am still collecting samples to analyse. Even the artist William Turner has him in his thrall; after Tamworth, Von Humboldt was to take up several social engagements with the man, in London."

"So, Bolivar?" she prompted. "How does he fit in? What was it he wanted?"

"I said as much at dinner that he wants to overthrow the Royal Spanish rule and unite the country as a United States. I was in the position to give him information that would be of critical use to him in exchange for information left behind by von Humboldt." He turned towards his desk again, sticking out an arm.

Of course, thought Cicely. Stephen was from Catalonia. It was as Jack had alluded to. The Catalans had fought for centuries for independence from Castile. What would a patriotic Catalan man do but to undermine Castilian authority when he sees it? And a perfect opportunity would be with a man who was in a position to overthrow Castilian royal power.

"It was immoral, I know. But to give him his due, Bonplan and von Humboldt both wished me well in my study. I hadn't exactly told them in its entirety of what my work comprised. I was then able to gain passage on a Clipper, a very fast ship, costly, to Caracas, in order to meet with Simon Bolivar, and give him vital intelligence for his work. He could then give me this - "

From his loose undershirt Stephen pulled a roll of paper, firmly bound, but efficiently written, as if the author had to consider the volume the work would undertake.

"I am sorry to tell you that, as well as Zoonomia, these treastie into the fauna and nature of Venezuela will also need to be cross-referenced." He threw them a few feet onto his desk, disturbing the tail feathers of a Quetzal that had been the subject of Stephen's dissection over which he had been deeply engaged as she had awoken that morning.

"But oh, Cicely, when I think of the chain of events that have led me to here...all these things I would not be able to do my darling wife, had it not been for you! And then I return and you've given me another gift so perfect I would but ask if you are an angel sent by the Lord himself!".

"Your father's death has given me the means to fund my return to the South Seas, to gather enough evidence to use his own against him, I have time, but...so many parts of this feel wrong..." Stephen pulled himself from under her, and to his feet, rubbing his hair with his hand, a pained look on his face.

"I hold no grievance towards Humboldt...but to know what I did in order to get my information, and then, when I met Bolivar..."

Cicely smiled. No grievance? Von Humboldt was descended from the Hapsburgs; has gained royal favour and funding; he has not had to work his way around the world; he will publish his research, not for the common good but as a relief from boredom. He's a protestant; you're a Catholic And most importantly, he is opposed to you, Stephen. For a man with no religion you are following the laws of nature as if it were a ritual and, more importantly, so is Humboldt. It's as if you''re carrying out a holy war against the man. What have I missed?

"I think you have been nothing more than opportunistic. If he wanted that work he wouldn't have left it behind."

"And yourself, Cicely? You wish to ask me something?"

"Jack told me about something.." She didn't mean it to slip out; that her husband had returned to her and with such an advantage to his work. How could there be a better Christmas present than seeing her husband so happy? He saw his face cloud a little.

No. She told herself firmly. You will not reopen the subject. The marriage is no longer disputed. That was the past. This is the present. If one keeps rereading the last chapter of their lives, how can one go on to write the next?

"That you intend to travel with him after I go to my Uncle at the Carteret Islands." She hoped it would be enough, and looked at him earnestly.

"Indeed," conceded Stephen, getting up too, "indeed, my gallant darling..." He held out a hand, and she took it. They looked at one another. The young woman, rebellious, and yet fiercely loyal to her family, shunning convention and yet respecting it; the older man, opium addict and brilliant naturalist, apolitical, Catholic. Objective, and yet, up until six weeks before, in the pay of a state with hierarchical monarchy.

"I have missed you so very much! My work should be a thousand times faster in its completion. And, while you have continued to have adventues in my absence in order to secure me beasts of these lands I have returned to you empty-handed, with nothing to make you sparkle and shine!"

Cicely smiled at her husband, the warmth of the season in her heart, pity for Mrs Villiers' treatment, if Mrs Pellew's word was to be taken at face value. What did it matter about Diana Villiers? It was the future, not the past that concerned them now.

She drew close to Stephen, and held onto him with the embrace of someone whose life now was with that other person irreversibly intertwined and with equanumity Cicely whispered close to his chest, whether there could be any true a gift than to see her clever husband so contented?

"Today, I have new material from trusted naturalists on which I can thoroughly rely. I have time and I have money in which to pursue my commission." He looked at Cicely with eyes happier than she had ever remembered seeing them. "I can take the next step! You can write my next chapter!"

In the candle-lit cabin, on Christmas night, Mrs Maturin and the good doctor began their new chapter.


	8. On the other side now

The light, balmy nights did not last long. Anchor-up came shortly after New Year and the crew of the Surprise nodded their heads to Epiphany as their days grew small like the latitude figures. They had hastily headed south, around the coastline of Brazil, Argentina, through the Straits of Magellan, round the Horn – no mean task with huge, pyramidal waves forming at the conjunction of the Pacific and Atlantic – although a task made to look plain and ordinary by Jack's formidable navigational skill.

Up Drake's Passage they had gone, still and settled by contrast, with mischievous zephyrs dancing softly aout the ship in light relief, respite to the southern Pacific into which they would again cross, where they had once fooled – and been fooled – by the Acheron, one of the world's most treacherous seas. Just over three months since sailing from Britain and they were nearing the Galapagos Islands. Another fortnight and they would be at Sarawak. But, regardless of what might be ahead, storms, or calm, their future would be secure.

These were just the latest in the long line of thoughts which were keeping Cicely from meaningful rest that night, which she was mulling over in hr mind as Stephen was slept beside her, his thin-framed spectacles perched on the end of his nose thoughtfully, as his chest rose and fell. Asleep mid-contemplation, one hand resting on his chest, a pile of yellowing papers under it. All too often these days, Cicely decided, her mind deviating from calculating the hours she had left with him and they would be parted, and she lifted his right hand, limp and light, from his chest, and removed the writings, those of Bonplan, she noted, and von Humboldt's, of Venezuela, carefully folding them down between them before nestling her head under his left arm and into the place the had been.

Her mind was on the not too distant future just at the moment, for it would not be so long that they would reach her uncle's islands and they would be soon parted, their lives, as contained as they were here, with naval hierarchy, here, their own floating country, as it were. Their lives together had changed somewhat since leaving Sao Paolo. Stephen, his head fully enlivened now with the prospect of a challenge with a time limit against one of the world's most renowned naturalists had grown taller than she had ever seen him, more determined than she remembered, the weight of espionage which truly had subjugated and suppressed his work in the past now extinct, he was now at a clear advantage with his rivals' work in his possession, a rival in Humboldt who did not even know he was such.

An inordinately magnificent three months, from Cicely's persepctive, that her husband was now pursuing his lifetime's ambition with such an advantage soured, unfortuately, by the ever-present passing of time, with the Surpise herself reminding herself four-hourly with what were once comforting time-bells, that she and Stephen would be separated for an indeterminate amount of time.

But she must not think of the future, and make herself so sad, when there were so many days together aboard. Not a day went by when writing, reading, compiling of work for Stephen was not on her retinue of jobs; neither did one where she was not above decks attending duties as Mrs Maturin, to whit, whatever she felt appopriate at that moment and fitted in with the orderly running of the ship.

Long past them, thankully, Cicely sighed to herself, as she lay crumpled in her husband's arms, were those of the recent past: their marriage; Diana Villiers; her father's death; her return to England. They had discussed little, choosing instead to let the past remain so. She was a figure in his past, just as Septimus Quinn had been in hers once. Stephen could now benefit from her father's money and Humboldt's and Bonplan's work and this woman had helped him: if she had feelings for him, which the letter, that Stephen had, to his credit, destroyed in her presence and cast it out of the cabin's tiny iron-hinged window-pane so little it meant to him, betrayed that she did, then of course she would do as Cicely would want to do: help Stephen gain his commission. Perhaps she should be thanking this Diana Villiers for her trouble, especially considering Mrs Pellew's sorrowful account of her life.

The happy swirling of calmer seas lapped at the hull of the ship as Cicely closed her eyes again. That the new part of their lives was beginning now, and soon they would be parted was the sad irony. But, at least, they had their lives together. War wouldn't last forever, no matter what Bonaparte thought of his invincibility. Stephen would only be a ship's surgeon temporarily, temporarily with respect to the span of their married lives together. While she and Stephen were married, Jack and Stephen were not, and that happy partnership was by no covenant bound, no matter what either of them thought!

The intense friendship of her husband and the ship's captain caused Cicely to smile in the darkness, her mind, dulled from the misery of parting, enlivened at heartbreaking sorrow that would, one day, befall those two men, when one day Stephen would no longer tend men of the Royal N, and Jack would be a retired Admiral, with Sophie, at home – or parliament, with their childen, the days and nights in the throes of hot battle a distant memory. Like her own, where she intervened, Cicely's mind dwelt, and bravely challenged James Fillings, and William Wickham and taken a potentially life-threatening injury intended for Nelson.

Whatever would her uncle Henry say, when he saw her, Cicely wondered. She had not seen him since she was very little, and only just about remembered a jovial, round-faced, bearded man, picking up Edward easily in his arms and laughing with him, swinging him round and smiling widely at her, too. Everything her father was not, Cicely reckoned. And in the meantime, had earned enough to venture into Sarawak and take up a business that had seen him well off during a war in collaboration with a provincial clockmaker. Well, it was the best, and most correct option she had. She would see.

But there was still an unnerving feeling, an uncomfortable feeling to which Cicely was not yet accustomed. She had tried to formulate the words that very evening, but had not had a great deal of success. An analogy was now foming in her mind, of slaves, the black slaves, of the fomer colonies, and how they must feel, after a lifetime of servitude and oppression that, if freed, thet would never have the hand of tyranny over them, as if there is something missing.

What need had they of the estate at Gloucester? When Stephen had finished in whatcer he needed to be doing, say, in 6 months (although she knew his fastidiousness and it may be a couple of years), he could use it to pay for commission entry for the Royal Society. And yet, when she had told him this was what she wanted him to do with it, he had told him he was keeping it on. But in keeping it on, he would likely need to take up spying again, unnecessarily so. She sighed into her husband's chest. Perhaps she could urge him to cut that one last gossamer strand of her past at a point in the future. W

hat he needed now was time to piece together the intellectual naturalistic jigsaw in his hand. And while she hoped that none of his time was spent considering the man who had given her the slight limp in the left hip from the bullet meant for Nelson, Cicely couldn't be entirely sure that Stephen's protracted deliberate pacings, or hasty scribblings were not incarnate of the treacherous William Wickham.

Stephen's chest rose, as he slept the sleep of the eternally exhilarated and yet exhausted. It was just something she was going to have to get used to in this new life together, their future, though not necessarily together, played out with one accord. The Maturins had a future. Ironically, Cicely thought to herself, had it not been for William Wickham's betrayal of crown and state, they really wouldn't have.

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Some of the apes had died, though not before had Stephen managed a thorough examination of the beasts upon the mizzendecks after the seas had calmed and the southern hemisphere summer had begun to bake the planks. Men not needed for duty had, in their mirth, helped Stephen in the very early stages wrest the animals, groggy with laudanum and heavier than the ship's gun carriages up into the daylight, hauling their frames into a position so that Stephen could examine their skulls heads and torsos with regard to a footnote in Humboldt's notes, in the minutest detail, a procedure which, in all, lasted the best part of a week.

Three days in and the dose was not large enough for the largest of them and, when it shot open its eyes vigoously and began to flail its arms catching Chell in the chest and knocking him off his feet, the eagerness with which Stephen has to assist at the beginning of the week was subsequently less forthcoming.

It was a Saturday morning when Will Blakeney, directing the few men who had wished to help, had descended to the hold and discovered two of the apes had deceased and had come hammering on the cabin door, entered, nodded at Cicely without thought as to knocking, which was a very un-Blakeney thing not to have done, particularly as Cicely was, of course, in private and merely wearing her sailing undergarments, large, long cotton trousers and wide, mid-sleeved blouson – a boon in such heat - before loudly and quickly telling Stephen, who had looked up at the young man from a study of condor wing feathers, of their passing.

"And the men wish to use them for meat, sir," he added, as Stephen pulled at his coat, nodding to Cicely, who had been reading through "Zoonomia" again, and had gone without a backwards glance. Cicely knew to leave him, at least for some minutes. It would be unthinkable that the apes could be food, she knew. The toxin alone would have contaminated their bodies. And anyway, who would want to eat ape-meat? Only a salt, clearly.

She gazed at the glass-smooth ocean, the sun reflecting from its surface like a mirror, wondering whether their lives could be more perfect. But it was again another fiction, a fallacy, a false notion. Out there, beyond the sea existed the world and everything on it and sooner or later "Surprise" would get to some part of it. She couldn't hold onto a bubble of caged bliss as a template for marital happiness. Would it be Stephen leaving her first? Or would, as Jack expected, they would reach Sarawak first, as his plans inferred, and the Carteret Islands, where Cicely would disembark before the Surprise pierced the ocean's surface with its bow pointing towards the British Indies.

A heavy bang from above, a thump and some yelling and shouting jerked Cicely's attention to the present and, pulling on her linen overdress and hurriedly buttoning it, most of the buttons into the wrong holes, she hurries barefooted along the lower main deck and to the shin-steps, legging up them before reaching the main deck and the commotion.

What a sight to behold, then, as Cicely surveyed the debris. The apes appeared indeed to be dead, but of what cause? Stephen, noticing that she had appeared and was scrutinising the scene limbered over to her.

"The men brought them up, but it appears the animals got a little rowdy. According to Blakeney the men shared their quarter with them," he added, nodding towards Nagel, who Cicely smiled upon solemnly, thinking quietly to herself that the young man would hardly have shared his grog if there hadn't been something in it for him, and in this instance a ready form of entertainment appeared to be the answer. Cicely looked questioningly at Stephen. "Laudanum and a dose of grog," her husband confirmed sadly, as if that statement qualified everything.

"Yes," nodded Cicely. "Do you mean that both together it killed them?"

"Oh yes!" exclaimed Stephen, his face white with concern as he surveyed his now departed Christmas gift. "Both together it has proved fatal for these unfortunate creatures. But I still have one. And I took a great deal of measuements. Indeed, Lieutenant Blakeney!" He stepped past Cicely for a moment as the young man directing the hands around the animals stood away. What they had been doing, it seems, was bundling them in rope-sacking, all the better to handle them, for they were extremely heavy and even now each were testing the strength of four men under the ever-growing mid-morning sun.

"Heave, heave, I say!" directed Will, his calf-skin boots, a gift from a sister for passing to Lieutenant, glimmering in the sunlight. Chell knelt a little, his bare feet grazing under the boards as he strove with the effort to lift the first one. Finally he, Nagel, Pizzy and Harris had got the first and an almighty "splash" broke the silence that was around them, followed shortly, after more heaving and tugging, with the second body of the dead ape, another which Cicely and Captain Howard had lovingly procured for her husband in Sao Paolo, had been thrown overboard.

And then Middie Fitzstanley, under Will, and the lower ranks of deckhands were set to work cleaning the broken boards and rigging which the two unfortunate animals had destroyed in their swansong. As she watched, a flutter of sadness passed over Cicely's chest as she thought about the fate of the apes, so human-like in their appearance and demeanour, imprisoned as they had been, in cages, and then in the hold, and then to be drugged before their lives ending so. But then, how many people did not have liberty over their own lives, and were treated in this world as bad as that? Or worse? Like the African slave? Or the poor man who owes money? To be at liberty and to have freedom, and not be subjected to a master is surely the objective of every man? Every woman, unless she chooses to be. As she had done.

Cicely's mind dwelt on the thought for a mere moment longer - for such thoughts were thoughts that people in France believed, revolutionaries in any case, and in this war France was Bonaparte and foe - before looking back to Stephen as he retreated to the stern, notes in hand, which, she realised, he must have taken with him up on deck when Blakeney had so urgently summoned him to take charge of the sorry state of affairs.

Settling down next to him, Cicely waited for a good few moments until Stephen noticed she was there. Well, not noticed as such, but realised that she was expecting recognition from him and then realised that he should do something about that. Eventually he glanced over at her, before taking her hand.

"I am sorry that they died," he said at last, tucking the Humboldt notes under his right thigh lest they join the poor, unfortunate took her right hand in both of his. "I did not intend for that to happen. Indeed, the other ape will survive well when we get to the East Indies and I can allow him to go, as will the birds. I notice you keep your silk dress to one side and wear your linen dress daily. A shrewd move, to take care of your Christmas gift from me."

It was a clumsy sentence, and Cicely knew he was feeling sorrow for the loss of the animals too. The men were, of course, uneducated, and acted as men were wont to do in these situations, tormenting animals for crude laughs.

"If they served the purpose for which I intended for you my love, then I consider my gift appreciated. Life has a way of expiring. I saved them from a dreadful fate, for I am sure they would have been dead by now had I left them in the market in Sao Paolo," Cicely added, comfortingly. Stephen kissed the top of her head before looking up.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Will Blakeney was looking sombrely towards the doctor.

"Captain Aubrey wishes to see you sir, in his cabin."

"Indeed?"

"Of what purpose, he did not say," Blakeney offered.

Steadily, Stephen rose, squeezing Cicely's hand one last time. In his place sank Will, a burden of guilt hanging over his head.

"I couldn't stop them, Sissy!" he wailed, his emotions overcoming propriety once more as Will reverted to his nickname for her. "They'd got the female out, but the madness overcame the male and he tore at the sheet-rigging. But then he spied Nagel, and Nagel teased him with grog, and then the men all took an interest – Fitzstanley alerted me to the situation as it concerned the doctor's animals – then they drank it, which amused them men even more and they all then gave them some of their own grog! Oh, Sissy! The apes! They then decided the rigging wasn't enough and pulled at the balustrade. The female swung out towards Jelfs so they tripped her up, but the male then tried to rush at them all! But he stumbled and fell, and then the female tried to rush too, but so did she, bringing down the aft-rig with her!"

The boy looked at her, beseechingly.

"I just didn't appreciate what had happened! Oh, the jacks stopped when I ordered them! But the damage had been done! The Captain will ask the doctor for his account. You know how scrupulous he is about orders."

I do indeed, thought Cicely, as she thought about her own encounter with Nagel in these very waters, when Nagel had provoked her, unwittingly, but even so, about Edward and besmirched his character as cowardly.

"The doctor has many more specimens," comforted Cicely, Blakeneny's hand in hers. "There are still the birds, the rodents too. Such things were likely to happen. And that he acquired such knowledge in the time he had..." she tailed off, her words sounding hollow, even to her, for, to her, the loss of the apes did indeed feel like the loss of people, innocent, child-like people at that.

Pulling Will closer for a sisterly cuddle, she closed her eyes and prayed to God that their souls were resting peacefully now. Should anyone have been looking on at a mid-twenties married ex-mizzenlad and her former teenage lieutenant consoling one another and hoping that the suffering of the animals was not too pronounced.

A day later, and the sunny climate of the southern Pacific restoring the mood of most of the "Surprise's" crew, the ship docked at Valparaiso for supplies of food, timber and women for the men. Unlike Sao Paolo, the Spanish-speaking port was somewhat smaller, the government of Chile being based north, in Santiago, and, down here, the dock revolved solely around commerce and provision.

Stephen had disembarked, watching the middies organise the deck-hands as they cleaned and repaired the hull from the worst of the damage that the Horn had thrown at them, leaning next to the quay's brine-sore planks before heading off towards the small town itself. Cicely, who would otherwise, as a mizzenlad, be working with them, descended to the hold, and to the remainder of her gift to Stephen, chittering, pipping and cawing as they were in their array of cages and, knowing that they were to be there for a good eight hours or so, brought them aloft for some sun and fresh air, to the stern, out of the way of the work, while the crew worked.

She stared at the rodents, who had chosen to scurry to the corner of their wooden prison, the glare of the sunlight too much for them, it seemed, before placing it down into the shade. The small, pastel-coloured birds, however, were positively relishing the warmth, and began to sing, their song, in due course, attracting a flock of larger birds of prey, of a species Cicely knew not what, circling and swooping just above them.

"'ere!"

The unmistakeable voice of the ship's cook next to Cicely caused her to look up, squinting into the sun towards Preserved Killick, who was holding out what might loosely be described as food.

"Fer 't animals, see? Otherwise 't would just go t' miskin."

"Oh!" Cicely said, not knowing what else to say, and wondering what a miskin was. "Thank you. The doctor will be pleased."

"Do't mention it." As quickly as he has arrived the man, as grumpy as he was versatile with work about the ship, disappeared below-decks, following Matthew Harris and two other deck-hands, who had been pressed at Plymouth, who were carrying huge, pale-looking vegetables that looked like turnips, baskets containing anonymous fish species and another man with a stanchion that Killick had been complaining he had been absent since the fighting at Trafalgar, having lost it during the engagement when it was thrown overboard by Jack as a diversion.

Smiling to herself, Cicely picked through the days-old food-scraps, feeding a piece of hard bacon-rind that was just going a little green through the bars of the cage, trying not to let the birds' beaks get too close to her fingers as she held it there.

"You have friends there, I must say," John Howard, the marines captain replaced Killick, and then sat next to her, sprinkling the hard breadcrumbs into the rodents' cage. They watched as the little rodents uncurled themselves from their corner and tentatively tested the morsels that were on offer. One was more interested than the other, which dived for cover again under the coolness of the leaves as its comrade ate for dear life.

"I just hope that Stephen has what he needs," Cicely replied, smiling at her friend. "And had what he needed from those poor, unfortunate creatures yesterday. It was an awfully unpleasant business."

"Indeed. And I believe the Captain and the doctor have spoken with Blakeneny regarding this, and he has issued punishment to those involved. It has been dealt with in line with Naval procedure. And, of course, the doctor's opinion has been carefully considered and incorporated into the verdict," he added, noting Cicely's expression of uncomprehension and outrage. "For the men should not have treated the animals so, of course," he added.

"Indeed not," Cicely replied, in agreement. For the direction of the ship and how such things were organised was in no way her business in any way any more. It was more than enough that Howard had told her in the first place.

"We shall be leaving before dawn," the captain continued, "and our course is set north," he added.

"And I shall be leaving, as will Stephen," replied Cicely. "He, to pursue his commission, I to be with my mother's brother. Uncle Godwin has agreed to take me. Not only that, is pleased to be doing so."

"And, are you, Cicely?"

"It is the correct and proper thing to be done," she answered simply. "I must put my faith in the Lord, for he has yet to fail me, though put obstacles in my path on the way to true enlightenment."

"Spoken like a true Presbyterian," replied John Howard, warmly. "No need for idolatry. God is here - " he tapped the side of his head, " - and as long as one has that, then one has access to God, as long as one listens to God properly, quietly, and heeds his lessons."

More food, and some rainwater from the natives of small town, was procured under Captain Howard's orders for Stephen's specimen animals before the doctor himself returned from the town, nodded towards Cicely and smiled towards the birds and rodents before taking them away with him, up the fo'c'sle steps and to the prow of the ship, whereupon he let the birds free. Upon looking down on the larger flight of steps, he gingerly made his way down these, too, before footing his way along the plank to the wharf, allowing the rodents their liberty too.

Cicely and John Howard looked at one another for a moment, before Stephen reboarded, both cages swinging in his right hand. He surprised Cicely by uncharacteristically pulling her towards him, his left arm scooping her towards him, before planting kisses upon her lips.

"I am so, so lucky to have found you, and for you to have become my wife, my brilliant Mrs Maturin!" he began, and if Cicely hadn't have known better she might have guessed he had been on the grog. As it was, his face was a little gaunt and pale, a telling sign of laudanum-abuse.

"There has been a rebellion, a single incident, which has caused a major diplomatic outrage between Britain and the Americas. Look!"

Pulling back Cicely towards the prow again, he thrust a Spanish newspaper towards her, pointing out relevant passages to her, nodding, as if she was as enlightened as he was, Stephen's eyes glimmering as much as they had been when he had returned at Christmas to the Surprise, his commission slightly amended with not a moment to lose. The same steely determination with which he had shot John Fotherington on the deck of the Acheron, knowing full well he was a well-connected spy in the pay of Joseph Fouche.

"I can't read Spanish..."

"Here...Whitehaven." Stephen, his arm round his wife, pointed out the Cumberland town's name in the column of print. "An American ship tried to do the same as John Paul Jones did in the Revolution, that is, invade Britain! But, the man in question, an American by the name of Isiah Watt was captured by a man named John Dalton, a scientist, it says, who lives not far from Whitehaven, in a small town called Eaglesfield. Don't you see what this means?"

Cicely looked at her husband. There were so many things it could mean, with Stephen, his mind aflame with infinite connections, naturalistic, politic, scientific.

"Not particularly. Can you explain, Stephen. Is it something to do with Dr. Darwin?"

"After a fashion," Stephen nodded. "Darwin, Priestley...all of the men of the Soho Lunar Society, all of them extolling communication in scientific and technologial fields...Bolton and Watt, of course. And there he is, a man who, by his very nature related to James Watt, using his cousin's connection play on the friendship of Dalton and attempt a one-man invasion. It came to nothing, of course. But the "Surprise's" very future is now going to be very different because of the - " Stephen broke off, as if realising he had said too much.

The wind lapped at their backs for a moment while Cicely made to take it all in and make sense of what her genius of a husband was trying to explain.

"But how do you know the two men are cousins?" said Cicely, sighing a little as she realised her husband was trying to communicate something of importance to her. "I know all of the newspapers the world over report every little thing concerning the war in Europe, but even that is something very small to be included in a local newspaper."

"It's of international importance. Isiah Watt claimed his invasion on behalf of the Independent American states and while he was only one man, and one man who was defeated, he still made that claim, one under which others are now open to follow freely, should they so desire, for President Franklin has not supersededed it – yet. And as to their familial relations, I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Isiah Watt at Soho House, when Erasmus Darwin himself was in attendance there, with several other members. Mr. James Watt introduced me to Mr. Isiah Watt himself.

"Now, should rebels, under the guise of any country wish to take up the offer to invade Britain on behalf of the Independent Americas, Mr. Isiah Watt has opened the door to them! Unfortunately - " Stephen cast a shadow over the newspaper again, scanning the words for the relevant text, then pointing to it, "Mr Dalton, upon recognising the man, invited him to his home, fed him, and escorted him to the nearest coaching station, at Windermere, wheretowhit Watt went without delay down to Chester, his intention, according to this, to arrive at London at the opening of Sessions, to face down Prime Minister Pitt and, perhaps, even to assassinate him."

Indeed? That was a lot for one man to attempt to accomplish. How could he even attempt to do so?

"He has been arrested, of course, and imprisoned in the Tower of London, of all places," Stephen continued to translate. "Well, this, this!" He slapped the page with the back of his hand, as if all of these cryptic clues were immediately obviously, "it all goes to show why we have changed tack." Cicely felt her eyes widen.

"Oh, yes. Of course, my darling, you are not as well informed as once you were," he added tenderly, pulling her close. "I am afraid we are in for some very...unpleasant...business once we sail from here, but then, my love, our plan will be as it was – I to the Galapagos, to be left there until Jack's business in India is complte, and you with your Uncle Godwin.

"And the animals?" Cicely watched her husband's face go blank, as if his actions not twenty minutes ago had not occurred.

"Them – oh. No. I do not need them any more, my darling, and I do thank you all the same for your kindness in procuring them. It is west South-American species I need to study, since it is their diversity with regard to species in the Galapagos I need to compare. Animals from the east coast, while interesting, are of little regard now. Though they were of some use in verifying Humboldt's work, however. You were clever to think of it. I have managed to propose several conjectures which I will be able to attack and rule out over the course of "Surprise's" actions soon to be in the Pacific."

And what would they be? Cicely wanted to know. She would know soon enough, of that she was certain.

"But our businss will be nothing compared to the action in the Atlantic should any American rebels attack Britain under the precedent of Watt," mused Stephen, looking over the glass-still sea as the jack-tars continued with their work, as Lieutenant Blakeney and Captain Pullings – a man still in need of his own ship after the misfortune of the wreck of the Acheron, to which he was assigned captaincy to get her back to Portsmouth – went about their business upon Jack Aubrey's.

And all the while, as Cicely thanked God again for the fortune that accompanied her husband's knowledge of the world of intellect and politics, coupled with speaking Spanish, connected to his naturalism commission, all of these had fallen into place for him again, once more, far out in the peaceful ocean, far away from the cares of her homeland.


	9. Marks and Marques

In the far distance the long, sleek figure of the "Indefatigable" loomed in the haze of the mid-Pacific. It had been some days since "Surprise" had been in sight of her, having detoured to the Galapagos Islands, leaving Stephen Maturin there.

Cicely had risen at the first bell of the morning watch – half past four in the morning was when she would see her husband bent over his work, his eyeglasses firmly upon his nose, peering at a specimen, or a section of a specimen – and this morning, aware of his absence, she busied herself with his work that day.

It had been when the first bell of the forenoon watch sounded that Cicely put down the quill, her hand aching from scribing with it, when her mind was filled with the previous day's events. Stephen's servant, who had integrated himself with the crew as one of them, Padeen Colman had collected a small artefacts and sketching out sections of the pancreas of one of the unfortunate apes who had met its demise aboard.

They had talked briefly then, about Stephen's plan of reboarding "Surprise" when it passed down through the South Seas on its return voyage. "Either that, or I will have found my way to you on the Carteret Islands. There can't be that many clockmaker kings – I will easily find your uncle...and you."

And that had been that. "Surprise" had anchored. A pair of hands had rowed Stephen, his belongings and his manservant out to "Albermarle", a place she recognised as being where he, Padeen and Blakeney had landed the first time round, just after he had been shot by John Howard and just before they had encountered the "Acheron."

As they hastened their passage to the shore, Stephen had turned, only once, and looked at her, his wife, and had smiled, his eyes gleaming. Cicely had, in turn, raised her arm and waved. To let him go, Cicely knew, it was the right thing to do.

Right, Cicely had told herself the previous afternoon. But not easy. It would be six months, at least, till she saw him again. Better than last time, though. There were plans in place to meet, not an escape across Europe and a mix-up the machinations of an enemy spy. Cicely had heard Stephen promise her that the business with William Wickham was over now he had her fortune on the death of her father however, she knew her husband. Like his naturalistic work, it would be difficult for him to put that aside easily.

She had refused food the previous evening and was rewarded with a "tutting" from Preserved Killick, the ships cook, amongst other things. And she could have sworn she had heard footsteps later on in the evening, near her door but when the noise had penetrated her consciousness and she had guessed to what they were, there had been no-one there.

Like there was no-one there now, Cicely knew, as she opened the door to see if anyone was actually there. The captain, perhaps. Blakeney, although he should by now, at his age, know better. Or even Higgins, who was the ship's temporary, but now better learned, sawbones until Stephen reboarded.

She closed the door, her eye glancing at the floor where Stephen's copy of Candide had fallen from her hands, her reading matter for the previous evening. While she disagreed with some of what the Frenchman said, much if it spoke of the same unifying interconnectedness of mankind - all peoples having the need for God, though calling Him in a variety of names and worshipping Him in such disparate ways - as long as you overlooked the horrifying cynical, satirical narrative. She had found it a week or so ago and had taken to reading it. When she had asked Stephen about the book, discarded as it had been on his desk, his only comment was of the deal of inaccuracies in the populace and geography of New Spain.

New Spain, Cicely thought, as she stared at the angles of the first-rater, pulling to mind Christmas in Brazil, in Sao Paulo, when its Admiral, Edward Pellew, his wife and had shared Christmas evening with them. How long would it be until there were independent nations there? If it were up to Stephen they would be free of the Spanish tomorrow, although the Brazilians were happy to receive the displaced Portuguese royal family. How long would that last? How long until the population realised that the treasures still being shipped to their mother countries would be better off in the hands of the native-born European-descended creoles? How long until they, like the North Americans, rejected their mother-countries in favour of independence?

She closed her eyes and thought again of Stephen's leaving. Cicely had known it would be coming, of course. But even after the turbulent storms after the Cape and Drake's passage the day still felt so far in the future that it might never come;

Once Padeen had come to pack his instruments Stephen's whole demeanour changed, as if the anticipation of the riches of his observations, and the potential consequences of researching these animals, finally bubbled to the surface, his whole being was alight with purpose and determination.

She looked again at the horizon; the "Indy's" sails out at almost right-angles from their masts, or so it would seem from so far away and such an angle. Soon, it would be far out of sight, Jack only catching up with it when they got to India, such was Admiral Pellew's ship, for it was to be a week away when Cecilia herself would be disembarking, taking with her his Christmas present of Brazilian animals for a life in the Carteret Islands with her Uncle Godwin until "Surprise" returned from its commission in India, or Stephen had found his own way to Sarawak. At least Stephen had managed to take up the kind offer from Edward Pellew to examine his Indian animals in Brazil's port of Sao Paulo.

"Surprise's" destination was well known amongst the hands and speculation had been rife to the purpose. Stephen and Jack had pointed out over dinner two nights before that Bonaparte seemed to be trying to stifle trade for Britain, introducing blockades around the European coastline and following courses of action designed to interrupt British shipping in the colonies. The United States, Stephen had speculated, would be dragged into this by Bonaparte somehow and Cecilia had suggested that the invasion by one USA citizen, as reported in Spanish in Valparaiso, Isaiah Watt, while ludicrous, may have been organised by British traitors.

"They want Canada, of that it seems certain," commented Stephen, but would not be drawn into a discussion about British espionage, especially since Cicely had found out his support of Wolf Tone. Another bid for independence, this time from Great Britain. Another one in addition to the American states. While the man's intentions were noble, Cicely had thought to herself, there was more chance of the sea itself changing to the gold of the Andes than Catholics and Protestants uniting in Ireland in the common cause of independence.

Which led the conversation around to India, where Jack had declared, where we had lost the colonies on one hand we were gaining other territory around the globe at a similar rate.

"Is Britain the East India Company then?" was all Stephen would be drawn on, his voice wry and his tone reticent, to which Jack had replied, "to all intents an purposes, Stephen, yes. If we did not have their trade, if we don't now, and in the future, then Bonaparte will have defeated us in India and, of course, Australia."

Stephen's subsequent silence had thrown Cicely, her mind absorbing the discussion which was putting her mind off thinking about the next morning and when it was clear that they weren't going to continue Cicely excused herself from their company citing tiredness, she also knew that Jack and Stephen would be parting for a considerable amount of time and gave them time together. Politics disinterested her, in any case. Or rather, Cicely corrected herself, in the safety of her own head, when she contemplated politics it merely served to remind her of her father's plans for her for financial gain. Politics. Where other people were harmed for your own gain.

It had been the fourth bell of the first watch, 2 o'clock in the morning, when Stephen had pushed open his cabin door, undressed to his underwear and lain next to her in their adapted bed-cot, now space for two, pulling her closer as she slept, his eyes searching for rest while his mind raced.

Cicely had woken, still in his arms, the unusually still Doctor Maturin fast asleep next to her rather than opposite, updating notes, cross-referencing, looking for common features in the work.

She had looked at him in wonder, as light shone between the ill-fitting planks, highlighting his handsome features, the same that she had precipitated her feelings when he had lay close to death from his abdomen wound, caused by Captain Howard's ill-timed attempt on an albatross. Just there, almost a year ago, Cicely had thought, for Surprise was now anchored in the same bay as they had been when Stephen had departed to collect specimens. And now, she knew, he had renewed purpose, thanks to the common interest in independence of Brazil akin to Simon Bolivar of the Spanish South American countries he was able to glean a good deal of insight into work left behind with Bolivar that put him head and shoulders above Alexander von Humboldt.

She had kissed him, resting her head on the naturalist and ex-spy's chest as he moved in his sleep. Their night had been one of intimacy, for Cicely had woken when he had slipped next to her.

And then, in his haste to remember all that he would need for the months on the Galapagos, crew and officers practically stumbling over one another to assist, he was gone, striding gainly over the ropy lava deposits, not looking back again, as both he and Colman had traversed west.

And thus, Cicely knew, though the parting had been wretched, at least she had got to part with her husband legitimately this time, as a naturalist keen to fulfil his part on his commission. Cicely had watched him go until the two figures were no more than blurs on Albemarle's horizon, whereupon she had forced herself back to their cabin and to work for him, to rest, and then work more, something she had done feverishly for the past two days, as it filled her time, kept her away from kind words and gestures which may cause her to break down and display her sorrow and forced her not to think and exhausted her enough for Cicely to be asleep seconds after her head had touched the canvas of the doctor's bed.

It had been both Will Blakeney and John Howard of the marines who had got her above-decks that morning, with the promise of an inspection of the remaining animal-gifts of Stephen's, who she was becoming rather attached to and with the promise of a beautiful day and something to draw, neither of them mentioning Stephen's departure, something which was passed over as a topic of conversation when Jack Aubrey had pointed out the "Indy".

"If we can hold our course we may find ourselves catching up with Admiral Pellew a little", Jack had concluded, pointing out her shape due north of them. "Even though she is faster, she must avoid several reefs. I am nimble." When Cicely nodded, but would not be drawn into naval discourse, which he knew she was keen, Jack pulled her from the side for a brief embrace. "He will miss you as much as you will miss him, my dear," he said, to the top of Cicely's head.

"He told you that?" asked Cicely, her voice a mixture of resignation and sadness.

"Yes," replied Jack, letting her go. "Amongst other things. Such as, the nature of his research. I didn't understand a lot of it. Well, to be honest, I didn't understand any of it. But I listened, and I am sure he was grateful." Cicely looked at him.

"Did he discuss his hypothesis of "changeability"? And that all species are the same, but where they live and their environments cause them to alter to fit?" Jack nodded, his bicorn hat nodding over his forehead, a sure sign he was perspirating in this hot, humid weather, as it wouldn't hold fast.

The night before Stephen had told her too, how he believed that there is a basic shape to all animals but also their living conditions influence how they are. If an ape from a family begins to live in Borneo then its feet, hands may be unsuitable to life in that place. "With the Dutch?" Cicely had quipped, but her husband had not been in a joking mood.

"It may not survive as long as the native species," he had pressed on, ecstatically, "But it can change in itself and get used to its external environment. If a pair were there and they found a way to survive, any young could be expected to be taught to cope. Eventually a species may lose its ability to live in its home environment because of the changes it has had to make in the new one. Change-survivalism. And I am sure von Humboldt has got there before me but for the research he left with Bolivar. I am convinced he does not, or he would not still be in Europe. I need examples, many examples of my idea of "changism" - there is an interconnectedness between everything, a unifying connection, rather than differences. Oh Lord, Cicely...ut is extraordinary to think Von Humboldt himself alluded to this but did not pursue it. Dr. Darwin too...molluscs! But neither Dr. Darwin nor von Humboldt have developed it." His voice had gone quiet in the darkness, before he had added, "I wonder how it could happen...I want to find out! All islands, everything in the South Pacific is a pure, untouched. I want to push my hypothesis to the limit and, if it still holds then, there must be a fundamental truth to it."

"Changism," confirmed Jack Aubrey. "And interconnectedness. But, before long - " Jack broke off as the one remaining ape swung its way over to Cicely, "he will be declaring us – people – connected to apes."

The ape in question was the young ape who had survived was a few feet up the rigging - the salts had taught it not to destroy the rigging by feeding it hard tack and grog and the creature had become a firm favourite amongst them. When it saw Cicely on deck it bounded over to her, raising its arms like a child might, begging to be picked up. Cicely crouched and allowed the ape into her arms. It wouldn't be able to do this for long - it had already grown though not yet an adult. It mewed a little, begging for food. Jack's face crumpled a little, before obliging with a little hard tack, adding, "I would appreciate your subtlety on this matter before Killick."

"And now, Mrs Maturin, are you prepared for your disembarkation at the...let me think now...Carteret Islands?"

"As I ever will be," Cicely replied, looking back again at the moderately rough sea, and the "Indefatigable" again. And another ship she thought she could see just to the east of her, unless it was sea-fog. "My uncle is not expecting me, however he made us this promise of living with him, Edward and I. I will no doubt grow used to it while I await Stephen's and your return."

"Indeed," nodded Jack, as a bell rang afore, from the forecastle. He glanced up, frowning a little, before slipping his small, brass sea-glass to his eye.

"Maria Josephine," read John Howard, who had stepped over to join them. "Good morning, Mrs Maturin, it's good to see you above decks. You look well."

"Thank you, John," she replied, adding hushedly, "you know you may call me Cicely." She looked briefly at Jack again just as he lowered the glass, who then nodded and excused himself, striding slowly but firmly towards the front of the ship, and to the middies who were analysing the route, and the ship which was now most definitely on the horizon.

88888888

Not half an hour later and "Surprise" and the misidentified "Maria Josephine" were fiercely exchanging broadsides. The middies had been right to order the ship to beat to quarters, standing the men alert in case of action, for action they received. Obediently, Cicely had repaired to Stephen's cabin, as was the agreed protocol in such an event, and had barred the door.

What was that ship doing? The "Maria Josephine" had accompanied them, the "Indy" and the "Star" as a semi-convoy from Brazil, around the Horn and tracking the west coast of South America. But, it wasn't the "Maria Josephine". For, when Jack had flagged to her captain, the response was cannon-fire, one falling short and lopping ten feet from the larboard of "Surprise" and the other grazing her larboard fore-hull, causing "Surprise" to skew in the water.

Now, outside, there was further gunfire. Cicely listened as the whistling from the other ship, which has responded to Jack's hailing of it by showing a white flag with an inverted red chevron. An independent ship, one which had the audacity to challenge a ship of the Royal Navy and think they could win. Why would it do that? The captain was either obviously mad or desperate in some way.

Another series of whistles and thuds. Cicely counted them – one...two...three...four...five...six. Cannon from the "Surprise's" larboard guns firing in quick succession so as to inflict maximum damage.

Another shot...from them, this time. And again, falling short. A part of Cicely, one which was wedded to the life of sea, wished she could be a-decks with her former crew, offering support and practical assistance.

And then, just as another volley of cannon soared from the larboard, a hit, at the front, Cicely deduced, for the ship was heaved westwards, the impact causing the stern to toe back. A bad position; any ship on the defensive wished always to be parallel to his target for maximum effect. Cicely turned as a "thump" in the cabin stole her attention: it was Stephen's chair falling over, and a confetti of small drawings which Cicely had been working on the day before and that morning.

Just as she turned to pick them all back up, the chair too, the "bump" with which the "Surprise" had endured made her topple over, upsetting Stephen's sea-chest too. A graunching noise made her stop. What _was_ happening? Cannon-fire had stopped, and there were feet, hurrying on the deck.

Taking Stephen's letter-opener, a long, thin, stiletto-like blade, Cicely thrust open the door and strode out, over the boards which were the ceiling of the lower gun deck and up the steps, peeping up to see what was going on. To the right of her Cicely could see large pieces of metal embedded in the ceiling, which was the floor of the main-deck, with more at the back and front, letting in light. It seemed to Cicely that "Surprise" had been grappled, somehow. She looked back up, hoping to catch something, _anything_ that was going on above there, something Jack might be doing, or the men. But nothing.

And then she saw boots, brown tan, knee high, with dull, blue tight-fitting trousers at the knee. The owner appeared in her line of sight momentarily, before moving away, and then back again. He was pacing, or so it seemed.

A few indistinct words made Cicely freeze as hurried steps were coming her way and she hurried as fast as she could back to Stephen's cabin, barring the door and pushing the heavy chair that had fallen in the impact up against it.

Nothing happened for a good five minutes and then she heard the sound of footsteps increasing in volume and pace coming towards her. Gripping the letter opener in her fist, she stood behind where the door might open, screwing her eyes up as she waited for it to be forced down.

"Nothing but my surgeon's quarters," she heard Jack say. "Unless your marque specifically states you may take the private belongings of a person." A pause. "If you would like to follow me this way..."

The footsteps faded, and she breathed a sigh, her eyes closed. Marque? Privateers. But, how was it that privateers had overcome "Surprise" and Jack was allowing them to pick through the ship's contents? That wasn't what "Letters of Marque and Reprisal" were for. She knew that precisely because...because...knelt before it, throwing out the old copies of "London Times", heaving out "Zoonomia"and trying to be careful as she moved out her husband's pride and joy, his mounted microscopic lenses and stand. At the bottom, she had seen, right at the bottom, was something she needed.

Her mind and her body filling with determination Cicely grasped the paper, folded into three, once sealed with wax and wrapped in scarlet ribbon, squeezing it tightly between her fist. It might just work...

...she stuffed it into her loose blouson as she scooped up the letter opener again, moved the chair and returned to the steps. She could hear Jack speaking as the man who was with him hoved into view once more, his long, black, straggly hair tied at his nape. For a sailor he was incredibly fair, his hair contrasting with the colour of his skin.

Nothing else for it. She knew what she must do.

Stamping up the steps, Cicely surveyed the scene. Around the decks salts and middies, looking somewhat inert and silent. Next to them, more men, guns trained. And in the centre Jack, conversing with the man, eyes darting to his Lieutenants, Blakeney, Mowett, Barrington, Cross, as if communicating something. And then his eyes caught Cicely's as she was now standing in full view of them all. The man with him, who was holding a blunderbuss watched his expression and turned slowly to look at Cicely.

"I thaought all yeur men were accounted for, Captain Aubrey," said the man, his voice one of triumph, his eyes flashing with light as they met Cicely's own. Down one cheek a scar ran, from ear to jaw, as if from a knife, or short-sword, the mark dark red, appearing old, but deep.

"They are," stated Jack, a look on his face of disbelief. And disappointment. Cicely felt a pang of guilt. She knew she should have remained where she was; Jack had assured her safety. But, she countered, to her conscience, he didn't know what I know. And what I am attempting to do.

"You are a privateer?" Cicely's question rang across the decks. Some of the men who were holding the working sailors at gunpoint murmured amongst themselves. The black-haired man dipped his head, as if that was the only acknowledgement he was about to give to her.

"Then, I demand to see your papers."

The hush was deafening. Only the waves, lapping mockingly at the hull of Surprise and between them and the larger vessel, which had indeed grappled "Surprise" to it, in order to embark, made a sound. The man stalked menacingly towards her, his features fixed, as if petrified in rock.

"And," he said punctuating the words, "who is asking?"

"Mrs Cicely Maturin. Private citizen."

"Well, Mrs Cicely Maturin," he repeated, his words steady, a slight undertone of mocking. "You may, indeed, see my papers. I do not want you to think that my overcoming a naval vessel was not legal." He bent over her slightly, his shoulders crowding over her, shaking the paper from the top to reveal the letter, waxed at the corner. She took the bottom of it, examining the words, and the signature at the bottom. Jefferson. Thomas Jefferson. President of the United States, President of the former British colonies. So, the USA was issuing Letters of Marque now, were they, in order to replenish their banks? But, this ship was out of its domain, surely? The country had only just purchased the central part of its continental landmass from the French: none of its territory existed on the west coast.

"There. Does it meet your approval, Mrs – Cicely – Maturin?"

"Yes, captain..." she bent lower to inspect the Marque, looking for the man's name, refusing to look past him and at Jack, for she knew she would not be able to do what she was about to do if she did.

"...Captain Josiah Eaton."

"There," he sneered, pulling the Letter from her hands. "Now that we have established that..." he turned towards Jack, whose stare she could feel boring into the side of her skull.

"...but," Cicely continued, staring at the American captain. "I just want to be clear. You have privateered against a ship of His Majesty's Royal Navy..." Captain Eaton swung back, staring at her.

"Indeed. As is my right. Your captain has been most obligin'" Cicely shook her head, deliberately.

"Not my captain. As I said, I am a private citizen, whose business is her own. However, may I establish for one moment, has Captain Aubrey temporarily relinquished command of our ship, in order to comply with your Letter of Marque?"

"That is so, young...Madam," he said, eyeing her up and down. "You – may go back to your quarters – this ain't none of your business, here."

"But that is where you are wrong, Captain Eaton," pressed Cicely firmly, calling upon every ounce of nobility that she had been born with, and the additional ounces trained into her by her governess. "Your Letter of Marque can only be used against ships which you have defeated in combat, and whose permission you have sought, should a private citizen be aboard."

Cicely! Screamed the look from Jack Aubrey. What are you doing?

"In the absence of my husband, Captain Eaton, I counter your Marque with my own, thus leaving our arrangement quits." She thrust the paper in the air, flapped it open, then handed it to Jack, whose eyes fell upon it, hungrily.

"Where is your ship?" demanded Eaton, furiously, eyeing Jack. "This is a naval man o'war. Only a privately-commissioned vessel may enact a Letter of Marque and Reprisal!" he stormed forward, to a muttering behind him. Several of the hands, Bonden, Nagel, were jostling out of position, itching to resume the fight they so clearly had been engaged in when the invading ship had pulled them close and overran them.

"My vessel, sir, is this ship. While so that Commander Aubrey commands his crew, then you are the victors. But I call upon the commander, now the commander of a defeated naval vessel, to place it under my command." Temporarily, thought Cicely. Commander Aubrey," she turned to look at Jack, after Jack had finished reading, "do you yield possession of your ship, His Majesty's Ship "Surprise" to me, its crew and all its effects?"

Jack looked at her from the corner of his eyes, and she thought she glimpsed admiration in them, before he looked at Captain Eaton, holding out the document, in the same way he had with his to Cicely not five minutes before.

"As "Surprise" is now my ship, and I command her at will, it has now become an independent ship by the name "Surprise. My place upon this former naval ship was gifted to me, as a wedding present by Admiral Lord Nelson himself, and the Letter of Marque and Reprisal a gift to me from the Lord Admiral. It is in this capacity I claim the right to use my husband's Marque and Reprisal documentation. Or, would you prefer that the Commander releases your ship to be sunk to the bottom of the Pacific?"

She saw the man's eyes flicker towards his ship, a look of pain within

"Indeed, this action is within my control, certainly," Jack Aubrey interjected, in an attempt to wrest control of the situation. "My marines are below, who will most suredly protect the life of Mrs Maturin and could choose to act accordingly." Jack stepped forward, handing back Cicely the Letter.

"I believe the choice is yours, sir. "Surrender your cargo under Mrs Maturin's authority, and this displaced former Royal Naval crew will see that you leave safely in these waters to, perhaps, use your own Letter to replenish your own bounties. Or, I will order my men to come about your ship and loose fire upon you."

A silence hung between them for a few moments. Cicely looked between Jack and the erstwhile captain of the purported "Maria Josephine".

"I yield," growled the captain, taking in Cicely with disdain. "I yield all claim over this – your ship - " he gave Cicely a foul look, then looked to his crew, "and will re-board our own. Men!" He turned, looking over his shoulder, and beckoning to his crew, who put down their weapons and made to follow their captain. The hands, who had been under gunpoint – illegally as they had just discovered, took a few steps towards the men who had held them up, pushing and roughing at a few, until Jack's stern gaze wordlessly put a stop to it.

Just as the crew had reboarded the attacking ship, Josiah Eaton swinging his long, be-booted leg over the taffrail, Aubrey stepped towards him.

"I speak on behalf of the owner of this vessel, Mrs Maturin. As you have seen fit to damage her ship we – _she_ seeks reparations."

There. At least they could claim some kind of victory over this impudent ship which had the gall to attack them. He looked at Cicely.

"We could fight. And I am sure, hand to hand, my men and the marines would win, and could claim their ship, the..." he paused, waiting for someone to fill in the name of the ship, for it was not "Maria Josephine."

"...Liberty!" yelled Lieutenant Barrington, coming up from leaning over the rail, clearly having sought the ship's name.

"...the Liberty," Jack finished, turning to Cicely, who was next to him. "What do you say, Mrs Maturin?"

"Sink the guns," declared Cicely. "Confiscate the grapples." And then, despite her better judgement, as a thought trailed hot as a comet in the blackened ocean-sky under which they were sailing, she added, "and any documentation which the captain has not already burned."

The "Liberty's" captain's pale face began to colour; he was clearly furious with this request. But, the marines stepped forward, Captain Howard in the lead, making for the easy step over each ship's rail and onto the Liberty.

"Indeed," snarled Captain Eaton, enraged and he stood aside while John Howard and his men carried this out, to the clear ire of Josiah Eaton, who was casting it all in Cicely's direction.

"Once I end my days, which will not be too far in the future," John Howard said to Cicely that evening, once the "Surprise" had been formally handed back over to Jack Aubrey, once the clean-and-repair was underway, once the minor casualties had been dealt with; once the dof-watch food had been eaten, and once she had been commended by Jack for her quick thinking, "I know that I will never forget this day, Cicely Maturin. I do not believe that your husband will ever be able to get the sea-life out of you, no matter how many times he marries you."


End file.
